Who Made Who?
by xXMethereaperXx
Summary: With the "successful" destruction of the war cruiser, Sheldon returns, intent on giving up his inventing. But the discovery of the XJ-10 Blackbird files piques his interest, bringing on a final project with the help of the BadLads. Can the Blackbird live up to it's design as successor to XJ-9, or will it be the scourge of all living things? To Sheldon, this android is so much more.
1. (1) Always The Moon

Alright, here the "sequel" to, Nobody Loves You Like Me. If you haven't read it prior to this, it's worth giving it a glance to understand this one.

Sheldon is going to be almost completely OC and will have a notable difference between the canon in this chapter.

Let's get started.

03/04/14: A few grammar corrections, and added title for Part 1.

* * *

><p><strong>Who Made Who?<strong>

**Part 1: The Death Of What Used To Be**

**Chapter 1: Always The Moon**

"_Before there ever was a you and me,  
><em>_The endless void of a dark, black sea  
><em>_And a giant oyster, the mother of all things_

_And the oyster made a pearl  
><em>_And the pearl became the world  
><em>_And the world began to turn  
><em>_And the sun began to burn_

_And then one day I met you and then fell in love  
><em>_And you broke my tender heart  
><em>_And so here we are_

_But there was always the moon  
><em>_There was always the moon  
><em>_There was always the moon  
><em>_There was always the moon"_

- Jonathan Coulton

**[][][]**

The scratching of the pen proved strong enough to further his headache, causing it to fluctuate between nuisance and full blown migraine.

"Inspection shows an accumulative damage in the area of 94%, as shown by the attached paperwork," he mumbled as he filled out the form he'd printed.

Pausing to sigh and rub his tired eyes, Sheldon continued, "Main control board, 49% damaged. Thrusters, 77% damaged. Exterior shell and all limbs, 54% damaged. Will require an estimated fifty hours of labor to repair. Course of action…"

He looked across the clean and organized garage to where the Silver Shell stood among the lawnmowers and yard tools, a smile frozen on it's face despite the battered and twisted remains of it's body.

"Immediate decommission, salvaging all useable resources for parts."

Adding the papers into a file, he stacked it onto the large pile with the other decommissioned inventions in the XJ class of upgrades designed to lessen the weaknesses of XJ-9. It seemed a waste to destroy them, but Jenny made it clear that she had no interest in taking them.

"Next on the list," he said as he grabbed the military surplus bag from the workbench.

Opening the flaps, he removed the gas mask along with the filters and set the bag aside. Slipping on the mask, he attached the filters and carried his bloody and possibly contaminated clothes to his forge. Accustomed to the burst of heat, he opened the grate and tossed his clothes in, taking a moment to run his hands over the fabric of his favorite jacket one last time. He watched them crackle and smolder before he closed the grate.

The clock on the wall did nothing to ease his fevered mind, but only reminded him of all the work he had left to do.

_'Now I have to clean out the workshop, which means I'll need to clear a path for the truck since I can't take the Shell,'_ he thought, skimming the list he had mentally created,_ 'Then I need to go to the mall and get a new jacket. I'll do that around three-thirty.'_

He picked up the military bag and walked to the shelf of lawn care tools his dad hung years ago. Returning the mask to the bag, he hung it beside the pruning shears and carefully removed the chainsaw.

Checking the oil and fuel, he walked toward the door leading to the back yard, stopping to glance at the laser pen on top of the pile of gadgets, remembering how easily it cuts through even the toughest of metals.

Looking to the chainsaw in his hand, he sadly focuses on the ground and steps outside.

**[][][]**

Mrs. Wakeman was already impressed.

She began reviewing the data Sheldon retrieved from the Ganymedian ship while the machines worked on repairing Jenny, and ten minutes in proved that she would be busy for the next month, at least.

Weapons logs, battle tactics, training manuals, current experiments, almost the entire collected knowledge of their empire. Available to her with only a few strokes of her keyboard.

Before she could continue, the screen went black and became unresponsive.

"What now?"

No matter the combination she attempted, they all received the same result. Nothing.

Suddenly, a new window opened and filled with the image of a man sitting behind a desk in an oddly shaped chair. His face appeared to be that of a hardened, middle aged man. His head wore black and shaggy hair, complete with a thick beard and several scars about his face.

"Hello, Nora."

Folding her arms, she leaned back, "Dr. Wakeman will do, Mr. Hughes."

"Oh come on," he said, stretching his arms out while letting the corners of his mouth curl into a smile, "After everything we've been through, it's still Dr. Wakemen?"

"Yes, it is."

Sighing, he leaned forward and wove his fingers together, "I assume you know the reason I'm contacting you."

"Maybe it's something to do with the ship we've destroyed," she answered sternly, "Or maybe, is it the fact I know you had the FEV container on an W-Class ship?"

"Those are both among the list," he said, glancing at a monitor to the side of him.

He looked back, his tone becoming softer and more sincere, "How's our daughter?"

She sighed, "Now she's _our _daughter?"

"Yes, Nora, she is," he said, his voice losing it's previous tone and becoming hoarse, "Do you think the military would have given you everything you needed to make her?"

He could see she felt the sting of his words and he shook his head, "Excuse me, I've done a lot of yelling today."

Holding his hand over an area of his desk caused the surface to fold away, allowing the cold air below to rise as steam. A platform within began to rise, lifting a container into his hand. Taking a large gulp of it's contents seemed to alleviate the burn in his throat.

Sighing out of relief, he returned the container to the device and it lowered back into the compartment.

"I'm sorry, where were we?"

"Our daughter," she said after a pause, "Is severely damaged, but will be fine after some repairs."

He nodded, "Good. It was painful to watch her be attacked and know there was nothing I could do about it."

Growing irritated, Nora shook her head, "What was the FEV doing on that ship?"

"We had it contained on a war ship for the extra security it possessed. It was on route to the sun to destroy the container. The ship encountered a severe systems failure near Mars, allowing the experiment to be released. Shortly after it broke into the armory and retrieved Project-62, a prototype gauss rifle."

"So that's why the ship couldn't respond," Nora said.

"I'm afraid so," he said, looking again at the monitor, "Our computer was accessed while XJ-9 was fighting the FEV. The tracing system was brought back on line beforehand and it showed the downloader was a life form."

Nora nodded, "Yes, that was a friend of XJ-9's. He accompanied her on the mission."

He watched the video of the FEV attacking the robot, "Impressive. Our tests showed Project-62 had the capability to pierce twelve feet of concrete and steel."

"He is very talented and the robotic suit was built well."

"Yes, quite well. Our last known contact with Silver Hawk shown the FEV entering an escape pod before it's destruction."

Nora's eyes widened, "This is terrible news! What if it comes to Earth?!"

Raising his hand, he bowed slightly, "Leave that to us. We've had a tracking system implanted into it, which showed it traveling toward the Carthunian Nebula. As for the destruction of our ship, we are indebted to you. I can't even imagine the uproar if your military had responded. They must have been busy with another project of theirs."

"Yes," she said, "Lucky indeed."

He glanced to the screen again and sighed, "Well, I'm sure you understand the problems I have to deal with, so I'll have to cut our talk short. It was good seeing you again."

Nora sighed and leaned toward the keyboard, "As much as I hate to admit it, I feel the same, Arthur."

"Which is why I'm sorry that I have to wipe your hard drive. I have to protect our classified information."

"Wait, no!"

"Until next time," he said with a salute and a grin before the screen began flashing.

The computer began to make a loud, screeching sound before it popped and started emitting a cloud of grey smoke.

Her jaw agape, she slumped backward into her chair, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Arthur, there is no limit to the bounds of hatred I have for you…"

**[][][]**

Sheldon wiped the sweat from his forehead and loaded the last box of tools and parts into the back of the battered and rusty pickup truck. Walking to one of the trees he'd cut down, he picked up the chainsaw from the pile of sawdust.

He turned to walk back to the truck but found himself staring at the large clearing he used as a test site. Amid the craters and patches of burnt grass, he could see the tests of the Silver Shell's rockets, weapons, and exterior strength. He seemed happier back then, even though it felt like yesterday.

Hefting the chainsaw into the bed of the truck, he dropped the key for his workshop into one of the boxes, pausing to look inside.

Between the blueprints and power cells, a small derringer catches his attention. He reaches for it, hesitating before doing so, remembering the day his father gave it to him. That was the day 'Sheldon The Inventor' was born, the small yet simple design of the firearm being the inspiration he needed to get his start.

The pistol felt familiar in his hand, muscle memory causing him to hold it in front of him and look down the sights.

Thumbing the catch, he flipped the barrel upwards and seen that it was still loaded.

Taking a glance around him, he knew no one could hear anything this far from the city. He walked away from the truck and closed the breech while slowly pulling the hammer back. Looking to the target across the way, he disengaged the safety and held it in front of him.

Despite being chambered in the fairly accurate nine-millimeter caliber, the extremely small barrels made the firearm useless for anything but close range, around eight to ten feet being the most effective range.

Looking down the sight again, he heard his dad talking over his shoulder.

"_Okay, keep your hands steady and aim carefully."_

He nodded, inhaling and holding his breath as he was taught.

"_Now, when you're ready, squeeze the trigger, don't pull. It's gonna have one hell of a kick, but don't be nervous."_

He waited until he was sure of his aim.

_Bang!_

The crack of the first shot was nearly deafening and the weapon rose violently from the recoil. Taking a couple deep breaths, he pulled the hammer for the next shot and aimed.

_Bang!_

The second shot wasn't nearly as loud, his ears still ringing from the first shot. Blinking and lowering the weapon gave him a clear sight of the target. Both shots were less than an inch from the center, impressive for a twenty yard shot.

He turned the warm pistol over in his hand, reading the shaky words he'd carved beside the 'James Firearms' logo.

_Never forget what made you._

Shaking his head, Sheldon slid the weapon into his pocket so he wouldn't forget to clean it and hopped into the truck.

The keys already in the ignition, he pushed on the clutch and wiggled the gear shift to be sure it was in neutral. Turning the key resulted in the tired engine cranking, emitting a faint hiss as it did so. Another moment later it started and idled, although it seemed to dislike it.

'Even needing head gaskets and piston rings,' he thought, 'The old girl still pulls her weight.'

"What's the news, Tremorton? This is Kip Kasper on KLON radio with the details on the ChimpZ live concert coming to our fine city! Tickets go on sale-"

Easing onto the gas, the volume of the exhaust increased enough to drown out the radio, a sign of a rotted out muffler, but the truck began to roll forward.

Following the now clear trail through the forest, it wasn't before he reached the house, swinging the large vehicle around the side of the garage to park in the driveway.

The engine shutting itself off brought a sigh from it's driver.

Opening the tailgate and stacking the boxes, he brought the items he'd collect into the garage and set them on the bench.

Now, the clock read 3:48.

"Better tell dad," he said out loud.

He was used to the quiet atmosphere of his house, him usually being the only one home, but today felt different. It seemed there was a tension in the air. Maybe it was him.

His computer already running, he opened his browser and hacked into the military database of Fort Krieger. Changing the title of the main page to 'Fort Awesome' resulted in the desired conclusion.

The page was immediately changed back to normal and a chat window opened.

"Hey, son, what's up?"

He typed his reply, "I need to use the truck to run somewhere."

It took a moment for the reply, "I don't know, you stayed home today, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but I didn't miss anything important. I'm ahead in all my classes except auto shop."

"Well…" was the reply, Sheldon already knowing the answer, "Alright, but be careful. If you get caught driving without a license, your mother will kill you, then she'll turn her sights on me."

"Sure thing."

"We need to get rid of that thing, get something better."

Sheldon smiled, "Nah, dad, the truck's great."

"I'll tell you what," the box said, taking another moment to finish, "If you can talk your teacher into letting you finish It in class, I'll buy the parts if you make a list."

"Sounds great, I'll talk to him tomorrow. Thanks."

"Not a problem, and be careful, there are some LEO's who don't know your old man."

**[][][]**

'Red?' he thought, looking at the colors of the jackets in front of him.

Shaking his head, he picked up a brown one to inspect the needlework on the seams. Deciding it'd have to do, he started the walk to the counter, but stopped to look at a CD display.

ChimpZ: Velvet Sand.

He picked up a copy and looked at the picture of the characters. Being a fan he knew their names by heart.

"Udon, Shiver, Doc-Dimes, and 4-B," he said to himself, remembering how much he loved their first album.

After some quick math he decided he'd have enough to get both and brought it to the register.

"That's a great album," the blue-haired girl shouted over her headphones, "Listening to it now."

"I didn't know it was out already," he said, handing her the money.

"What?"

He shook his head and took the change, "Nothing."

"Alright, have a good one."

He sighed as he ripped the tags from the jacket, always feeling he was on the receiving end of awkward moments.

"Ah, much better."

"Sheldon?"

He turned to see the owner of the voice walk toward him.

"Hey, what brought you here?"

"Hey, Brad," he answered, "Had to get a new jacket."

"That's cool," he said with a nod, "I was supposed to meet Jenny here, but Mrs. Wakeman said she couldn't go."

Jenny. He could have gone without hearing her name.

"That's too bad."

Brad nodded, "Yeah. I came here anyway, but it's been rather dull. Ran into Jaxon, but he was busy, so I'm probably gonna head home."

Sheldon nodded before, the silence becoming unbearable. Brad began to look around, the smile remaining on his face.

"Well, I'm getting ready to leave myself. Do you… need a ride, or something?"

He seemed to think about it, eventually nodding, "Sure, that'd be great. Jenny usually flies me home, and I really don't want to walk."

Sheldon sighed and started walking, ignoring Brad's talk about things him and his friends would do on their days at the mall. He actually began to regret the offer.

"So," Brad said as they started across the lot, "Is… your parents picking us up?"

Sheldon shook his head and opened the door of the truck, "No."

Brad looked it over and followed him in, "You're driving without a license? That's pretty cool, not losery at all!"

Sheldon glanced toward him while he started the engine.

"Well, I didn't mean losery, it's just that I never pictured you doing something like this."

Sheldon rolled his eyes and started driving toward Jenny's, again, tuning out Brad's voice.

While idling at the red light, the engine began to sputter and threatened to stall. Some skillful foot work on the throttle kept it going and they continued once the light changed.

"You really listen to the ChimpZ?" Brad asked, seeing the CD sitting next to him on the seat.

"Yes. I do," Sheldon said, the tone of his voice causing Brad to laugh nervously and stammer.

"W-well, I didn't mean it was a bad thing, it's just, I didn't know you listened to them."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Brad."

After a couple minutes, Sheldon sighed, "I'm sorry, I've just been wound up a little tight today."

"Does it have anything to do with you and Jenny being absent today?" Brad asked, his expression showing he was genuinely worried.

"Sort of."

Sheldon swung the large vehicle to the curb and shifted to neutral.

Brad unbuckled his seatbelt, "I won't press too much into it, but if you need to tell someone, I'll listen."

"Thanks, I might take you up on that sometime," he said, not really meaning it.

"Of course. You and Jenny are my amigos."

That name again…

"Thanks for the ride."

Waving, he moved to shift into drive when he noticed the form of Mrs. Wakeman walking across her lawn.

"Hello, Sheldon. I though that was you."

He nodded and let the engine die, "Hey, Dr. Wakeman. How are you?"

She shrugged and motioned to the lawn mower, "I've had some computer trouble, so while the OS is installing, I figured I'd finish some yard work."

"I know that feeling," he said, the phrase sounding awkward coming from him.

"Oh, before I forget," she said, reaching into the pocket of her jacket, "Here's you flash drive. It was in the computer when it crashed, so let me or XJ-9 know if it's damaged and I'll replace it."

Shaking his head, "Don't worry about, I got plenty of these things."

"Also, you didn't happen to make any copies of the data you downloaded from the ship, did you? I was reviewing it when the computer malfunctioned."

He nodded slowly, "My laptop was destroyed in the crash, but it should still have the originals on it's hard drive. Did you want another copy? I can run home and pull the drive out."

"No, no, no, it's not that important. Just be careful if you start snooping through it and let me know if you find anything interesting. Or, again, you could tell XJ-9."

**[][][]**

Pulling on his shirt, he walked from the bathroom while drying his hair with a towel. Entering his room, he glanced into the mirror and moved to sit in the computer chair, stopping to look back in the mirror. Not believing his reflection, he leaned closer to get a better look.

He noticed his skin was clearer around his face and it appeared like several freckles were gone.

Moving his head around to get a look at different angles, he eventually shrugged and sat behind the computer, "Must have bought a new kind of shampoo."

He logged in to E-1337 Engineering and clicked on the mailbox.

"_Sh3l-Shock3d, you have several messages," _the computerized voice said.

Being only site updates, he deleted them and went to logout.

The cursor hovered over the link, but he didn't push the button. Instead he opened a new page and decrypted the barrier for the military database. Ignoring the page he changed earlier, he connected to the central server, linking him to every military computer in the country. Searching through three days of notices, he found what he was looking for.

'RE: Blackbird.'

Checking the status bar of his decryption, he clicked the link and read the notice.

"_To all personnel involved in the recently closed project Blackbird, submit all of your data through an encrypted FTP via this mailbox for cataloguing. After doing so, you are required to destroy all physical, digital, and mental knowledge of the project immediately. Thank you for your cooperation. /Colonel Summer."_

Again checking the bar, he clicked the link and began to download all files sent to it. Archiving it and setting a password, he closed all of the military windows and began to read the data aloud.

"The XJ-10 (Codenamed: Blackbird) was the result of many years of updates and modification of {Data Expunged}'s XJ-9 battle droid. With the failure and termination of XJ-9 (Codenamed: Blue J) the XJ-10 project was to be an independent weapons system rather than successor. With the declassification of Blackbird, the project was scrapped due to budget issues and lack of the ability to achieve the specifications of the project's projections. For more info, see the attached blueprints."

Slowly, he moved the mouse to the image of the blueprints for the project, taking an extreme amount of effort to finally click on it.

His eyes widened in disbelief, as he stared at the screen. Without looking away, he opened a drawer beside him and removed the copy he'd made of XJ-9's schematics.

Side by side, the differenced were numerous. Not only the strength, resilience, but even the shape of the design of the model was improved. This could be an unstoppable force in the wrong hands.

And instantly, the desire to create was re-ignited.

**[][][]**

After he finished typing the new post, he clicked the submit button.

"Calling all BadLads, we have work to do."

Almost instantly he received a reply.

Danimal442, "I take it you found what I told you?"

"It was unbelievable. We have to get started right away!"

Danimal442, "Just what I wanted to hear. So, what's the first objective?"

"We need to begin planning. I'm sending you a copy of the schematics."

Jay-Sin22, "What're we building? An army of robots for the zombie apocalypse?"

"No, nothing like that… It's more of a horde and I've already stashed them away."

Jay-Sin22, "I'm not going to be getting any Lithium Cells, am I?"

"I'll send you some tomorrow. For this project, I'm thinking of bringing back the Passive Perpetual Motion system, anyway."

Jay-Sin22, "Hot Digitty Daffodil! I am forever in your debt!"

"Let's start with reviewing the schematics I just sent you."

Danimal442, "So how do we start? Assigning roles or putting together a shopping list? If I know you, half the stuff you're gonna want is hard to get."

"I'll handle the acquisition, you get a list together. We can use surplus for most of it and I have about two metric tons of steel we can use."

Danimal442, "No, you're not destroying the Silver Shell!"

"It's beyond repair. Besides, we can use a lot of the components that's intact."

Danimal442, "I'm going to ignore you telling us what happened to it, but everything's repairable! SS is the first great accomplishment of the BadLads! Besides, I've been working on a new type of metal that would be perfect for this application."

"If you say so."

Jay-Sin22, "Not to interrupt the lover's quarrel, this design is calling for Artificial Intelligence. Last time any of us attempted that was… never. It was pure luck SS turned out as well as he did."

"Not only will we need to code A.I., I'm planning on giving it Sentience. I have a few other revisions I plan to make to the designs, but I can handle all of that."

Xenigma, "I can code A.I. and give it Sentience."

Danimal442, "This is a private post, newb!"

Xenigma, "Aww…"

Jay-Sin22, "Wow, Dan."

Danimal442, "Don't call me that."

"What's your experience?"

Xenigma, "I have eleven years of coding and electrical engineering experience, with four years of apprenticeship in a repair shop."

"Why do you want to help us?"

Xenigma, "I've followed the BadLads work for months. You manage to build the most impressive creations I've ever seen, and even if it's only this once, I want to be a part of it."

Jay-Sin22, "We do need a coder."

Danimal442, "I guess we don't have a choice."

"Alright, I've sent you a copy of the schematics. Let's get planning, team."

Xenigma, "You have my brain."

Danimal442, "And my axe."

Jay-Sin22, "…"

"…"

Xenigma, "…"

Danimal442, "Not cool?"

* * *

><p>Alright, I got a little carried away again. I was rushing because I was planning on this being a short intro, but it got to be pretty long, at least compared to my other work.<p>

So, we've got a little look into the BadLads latest project, and a little more insight into XJ-9's past. I'm not going to lie, I feel Brad was a little out of character, him being one of the few I can't remember a lot about, but his role was served, so I'll leave it at that.

Thanks for reading. I'm off to finish a much needed update on another story.


	2. (2) Out Of Control

Alright, back with the second chapter. Laptop's been overheating since I tried running Titanfall, so I have a fan in front of it while I work and hope it won't do it for the time being.

* * *

><p><strong>Who Made Who?<strong>

**Part 1: The Death Of What Used To Be**

**Chapter 2: Out Of Control**

"_I feel like I'm spinning out of control  
>Try to focus but everything's twisted<br>And all along I thought you would be there  
>(Thought you would be there)<br>To let me know I'm not alone  
>But in fact that's exactly what I was"<em>

- Hoobastank

**[][][]**

"Alright, let's have a quick update."

Danimal442, "I just finished a batch of the metal we'll use, and I have a page and a half so far of materials I'll need."

Jay-Sin22, "I'm about a page or so as well, shouldn't be more than two for what I'll need."

"That's about where I'm at. Work on them when you can, I'm going to go talk to someone after school about getting the dynamos for the joints and clearing a budget."

Xenigma, "The A.I. is finished, just have to change a few things. I had a copy finished to enter in this year's TE, but I missed the deadline. I'll have a demonstration video ready later."

"What's the estimation on it's full completion?"

Xenigma, "That depends on what you want coded. Do you want to go through the hassle of programming the A.I.'s personality to your liking, or do you want it to set itself randomly?"

"How do you code it?"

Xenigma, "About a thousand yes or no questions…"

"Yeah, why don't we let itself do it."

Jay-Sin22, "So what all do you need us to do?"

"There are some components I can't get ahold of here in the states. So, I'll need help locating some of the parts and making them compatible with the control system I plan on using."

Danimal442, "I'm guessing a PNP mainframe like we did with SS?"

"Something like that, but it has to be more compact. This project isn't going to be as large. Also, the military hadn't designed it with the revisions I made, so it'll take a lot of troubleshooting."

Danimal442, "And when are you going to fill us in on them?"

"It's a surprise. You'll see when the prototype is ready."

Danimal442, "That'll be forever! We might be able to help with it!"

"This project won't take long at all. Just like SS, it's mostly assembly and that didn't take more than a week. The only hiccup will be the A.I."

Xenigma, "It'll be very user friendly."

"Then it's only a matter of getting all the parts."

Danimal442, "Speaking of, how's SS coming along?"

"I looked it over again, I still don't think it's worth doing."

Danimal442, "You have to fix it! It's our mascot!"

"I really don't feel like messing with it. I'd have to gut it and redo everything. If I do that, I'll be tempted to update it."

Jay-Sin22, "Come on, he could use an update. What'd you do to him, anyway?"

"Nothing. He just spontaneously combusted."

Jay-Sin22, "Does this have anything to do with that robot girl?"

"… no."

Danimal442, "Sigh."

Jay-Sin22, "Well, I see another hundred issues in the making."

Xenigma, "Issues?"

Danimal442, "The name _Clobber Bot _ring a bell?"

Xenigma, "Yeah…"

Jay-Sin22, "Well, you're working with the creator."

Xenigma, "No way! You wrote _Clobber Bot_?! My favorite issue is Family Fodder!"

Danimal442, "Oddly enough, it started as a way to fund the production of the Silver Shell. He's got, like, three series in storage."

"Probably going to have to release those to repair the Shell…"

Xenigma, "So, the Armored Android is modeled after the Silver Shell?"

"Sort of."

Jay-Sin22, "Hate to break up the fan club, but I gotta log for the day. I'll work on getting everything together."

{_Jay-Sin22 has logged off_}

Danimal442, "Yeah, same for me. You just worry about the Silver Shell, we'll handle the rest."

{_Danimal442 has logged off_}

Xenigma, "I'm so gonna stalk you now."

{_Xenigma has logged off_}

**[][][]**

The room was dark, so much so that were it not for the dim red lights of the computers she would have believed her eyes were still closed.

After finding her night vision was disabled, she began to worry.

"Alright Jenny," she said quietly, "No need to panic, you're just in a dark room, nothing you can't handle."

She tried to move one of her legs, but found herself unable to. No matter how hard she tried, It didn't respond.

Fear slowly creeping it's way into her head, she moved her arm and tried to feel for any damage to her body that would cause her legs to malfunction. Across the room, the sound of something scraping reached her, making her freeze in terror. Soon after she stopped moving her arm, the noise went away, causing her to wait a moment before she tried again.

This time, the sound of various objects and glass jars crashing to the floor reached her along with the chilling realization that her body was no longer attached to her head.

The panic began to set in, the helplessness clouding her mind, keeping her from focusing on the surroundings to formulate a plot.

Just before her processors overloaded, the lights kicked on and blinded her until her eyes began to adjust to the light.

Footsteps and the squeaking of a wheeled cart began to echo across the room, a faint, feminine voice barely audible over them, as if it's owner were talking to herself. The voice began to move closer and closer until it seemed to be a row away before the cart stopped, the owner sighing loudly.

"Well, let's see how the installation's going."

'That voice,' she thought, confused as to where she's heard it before.

The owner walked into view, stopping at a computer desk to turn on the monitor and read the display for a moment. After hitting a button on the keyboard, the computer emitted a faint beep and she nodded in satisfaction.

Glancing in her direction, the woman blinked.

"XJ-9, you're awake?"

Slowly, her mind began to work out who she was, suddenly remembering the woman was her mother.

"Mom? What's going on?"

She walked to the machine her head was attached to and crouched to get a better look, "You don't remember? Maybe the crash caused more damage than I thought."

"Crash?!" she shouted, "What cra-"

She stopped, the foggy memory becoming clearer until the event replayed itself. She remembered the fight with the experiment, the strange weapon it used, and even the crash as they re-entered the Earth's atmosphere.

Nora sighed, "That whole mission was trouble from the beginning. I never should have let you two leave."

"Two? Wasn't it just me that went?"

"Your memory must be corrupted. You and a classmate, Sheldon, went to destroy the space ship. Your body was too damaged to survive re-entry, so he shielded you from the impact with his own robot."

"Sheldon?"

Nora nodded, "Anyway, the machines are repairing your body, and I'm working on restore your default settings from a backup. That should fix your loss of memory."

Jenny blinked and looked to where her arms sat on the table across the room. Following her gaze, Nora nodded.

"I see you tried to move your arms. I had your legs disabled from your control while I worked on fixing your arms. I didn't think you'd reboot this quickly, so I neglected to shut them off."

"I'm a robot?"

The concern shown on her mother's face, causing her to walk to the computer to keep from worrying her, "Yes, dear. A very well built robot, something like this will be nothing for you to overcome."

"And… Sheldon? Who's that?"

Nora contemplated that question, wondering the reality of the real answer, "He is a human, like myself. He is a classmate of yours, though I wonder how he's remained only that after all this time. He really is a nice person, you should be nicer to him."

She could tell her daughter was struggling to remember even the slightest bit of herself before the accident, and it pained her to know there was nothing she could do until the reinstall disc was written. Instead, she looked to the cart she had wheeled down to the lab.

"Oh, that's right," she began, walking to short distance to wheel the cart into view of the disembodied head of her daughter.

"This is your prototype body from when you were younger."

Jenny struggled to turn and get a better look, but the machine she was attached to kept her from moving.

"It's nothing compared to your current body, but it'll get you mobile for the time being."

"I… don't remember it."

"That's fine dear," Nora said as she shut off the machine and took her head from the base, "I doubt you'd remember it if your memory was intact."

She pulled the torso upward and connected it to Jenny's head, sighing out of relief as the old power cells engaged and began to hum.

"Your drivers should still be installed on your mainframe, so go ahead and try to stand."

**[][][]**

Sheldon stood looking at the Silver Shell, really not wanting to go through the hassle of repairing it but still not wanting to see it dismantled.

'I have to get to school,' he told himself, feeling his heart beat start to increase, 'I'm just going to grab my backpack.'

Using a hammer he took from the wall, he broke the spot welds he used to temporarily attach the hatch back onto the frame. Jumping back as the heavy door clattered to the floor, he sighed and reached in to pull his pack from the back of the chair. Turning to leave, something tumbled onto the ground at his feet.

Blinking, he looked down at the small box, remembering the Anti-Matter shield was left beside his backpack. Picking up the device, he turned it over in his hands a few times before looking at his watch.

"Late," he said as he tucked it into his backpack and rushed from the garage to where he had left the truck running in the driveway.

Tossing his backpack into the passenger seat, he climbed behind the wheel and pulled the door closed. Pulling the gearshift into reverse, the engine protested as he released the clutch and waited for the transmission to grab.

Lurching backwards, he rolled into the street and swung into first.

He let go of the clutch too soon, causing the truck to lurch forward and stall. Thankful he lived far enough from school that he didn't embarrass himself, he pushed the clutch in and turned the key. The tired motor obeyed and sputtered into life, the misfiring cylinders making themselves known.

He began rolling down the road, shifting smoothly into second and eventually third, keeping an eye on his speed. The rest of the drive passed without any conflict and he pulled into the parking lot earlier than he usually did when he'd take his rocket skates.

Parking in a spot he hoped was far enough from the entrance, he pulled the keys from the ignition and reached toward his backpack when he lost control of his arm.

His mind replayed the incident with Jenny and he felt his chest begin to tighten.

"_No, I'd rather burn than take your help!"_

His hands gripped the steering wheel while his breathing increased. He began to scream while he tugged on the steering wheel, almost ripping it loose from the steering column. Images of her laughing at him began to flood his vision, causing him to pull harder.

When the wheel refused to break free, he turned to swing his fists against the dashboard, the hard plastic slowly give way to his barrage. The cover over the instrument panel shattered and embedded a jagged piece of plastic into his hand. The adrenaline fueling his rage kept him from noticing the wound, but it couldn't last forever.

Breathing heavily, he calmed down enough to see the damage he'd caused.

The speedometer was destroyed, the black backing plate nearly non-existent along with the orange needle. A large crack ran along the dashboard and caused the two separated pieces to lift away from their usual spot.

Taking deep breaths, he began to regain his composure and notice the sharp pain in his hands. The sudden outburst haunted him, the memory of it causing him to shiver as he quickly grabbed his backpack and close the door of the truck. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from drawing attention to himself as he entered the school and walked into the nearest bathroom.

As he washed his hands and wrapped them with paper towels, he imagined himself standing in the doorway as he did everyday, waiting for Jenny to walk to her locker and begin his usual routine. Today, however, he shook his head and finished wrapping his hands, wondering how he could go on without the one he loves.

The first warning bell rang and he stepped out of the bathroom, wondering what he'll do with his free time.

* * *

><p>Little shorter than I wanted it, but I think the point got across. Got a little preoccupied with the new South Park game and had to force myself to quit it and finish this chapter.<p>

So, our lovesick Sheldon has a breakdown, and Jenny lost some of her memory. And what of this Blackbird project?

We'll have to wait and see.

Also, I made a forum on here to discuss some upcoming stories and to get help when I run into any issues with them, but I'm unable to find it in the forum section, so I'll mess with it and see if I can figure it out.

Thanks for reading.


	3. (3) My Jekyll Doesn't Hide

Alright, chapter three.

Most of the action will take place in the second part, but I'm going to fit a couple fights I have planned into this part so it isn't so… blah.

Anyway, you're not here to listen to me ramble, so let's get started.

[][][]

**Who Made Who?**

**Part 1: The Death Of What Used To Be**

**Chapter 3: My Jekyll Doesn't Hide**

_"Condemned To Violence, Arrested By Pain  
>Inside The Soul Lies A Man Insane<br>Conceived In Anger, Addicted To Hate  
>The Mutant Child Of A Twisted State<em>

_Beware The Contradiction_  
><em>Beneath The Crimson Void<em>  
><em>'Cos In The World Of Fiction<em>  
><em>My Jekyll Doesn't Hide"<em>

- Ozzy Osbourne

**[][][]**

Sheldon stared at the closed locker, no closer to opening it than he was several minutes ago.

They were getting better, he'll give them that. This time there was less evidence that someone had opened the locker before him. The small piece of tape he left in place at the end of everyday was ripped and the tumbler for the lock had been moved.

He entered the combination and hesitated before raising the handle, curious to what prank was awaiting him today.

"Hey, Sheldon, how's it going?"

Without looking away, he shrugged, "Trying to figure out what's in store for me today."

Knowing all too well what he meant, Brad instinctively took several steps back. Sheldon took a deep breath and raised the handle.

'So far, so good,' he thought.

Quickly swinging the door open, he slid to the side as a large mound of mud tumbled onto the floor, an avalanche of worms following shortly behind.

With no explosions or similar dangers, Brad approached cautiously and crouched to investigate.

"Worms?"

Sheldon nodded, "They must be losing interest. I can deal with worms."

"What do you wanna bet it was Don Prima?" Brad asked, wiping his hands on his pants while he rose back to his feet.

"Too messy for him. Probably Richard or Brent, under his orders."

"Is it always worms?"

"More often than not," he answered.

Sheldon adjusted his footing and gently slid the pile of mud and wriggly worms aside while they attempted to coil themselves around one of his laces.

"That's rough, even for them," Brad said, crossing his arms, "How're your books?"

Not having the foresight to fill his books with the mud, the covers had endured most of the abuse. Nothing some elbow grease and soap couldn't get rid of.

"The books should be fine, I'll just take off the covers for now. First class is P.E., so all I'll need is my gym bag."

As he went to grab the bag, a loud vibration came from the open pouch. Looking at each other out of confusion, they both shrugged. Sheldon slowly reached in and carefully lifted the flap. A large snake lunged through the opening, causing him to stumble backwards and shout as he fell. Everyone in the hall turned and looked toward them.

Instantly he jumped to his feet and slammed the locker closed, putting his back to the door and sliding down it.

Brad had backed to the opposite side of the hall and kept his arms held in front of him.

"Did you happen to see what color it was?" Sheldon asked between breaths.

Unable to speak, Brad shook his head.

With a heavy sigh, he stood and put in his combination again. Taking another deep breath, he quickly opened the door and grabbed the snake in mid strike.

"Impressive reflexes, hombre."

Sheldon lifted the snake from the bag and looked it over, starting with it's tail. The snake had began to vibrate it's tail once it felt threatened and continued doing so. The red, black, and white colors repeated themselves over it's entire body and became thinner the closer it came to the tail.

"Is that thing poisonous?" Brad asked.

"Red on black, friend of Jack," Sheldon said as he loosened his grip, "Red on yellow, kill a fellow."

Brad looked over the colors and nodded, "So, it's not poisonous?"

"Yeah, it's a harmless King snake. They must have gotten him confused with a Coral snake."

"That's borderline murder…"

"As always," he said as he set it down and let it slither away, "They don't think ahead."

Brad leaned back and watched it continue into the girl's bathroom, "You're just going to let it go?"

Sheldon shrugged and further inspected the bag, "Why should I be the only one having an interesting morning?"

Muffled screams came from the bathroom as it's inhabitants began running out, shouting that a monster was inside.

"I think we should go."

Sheldon closed his locker and nodded, "Good idea."

Doing their best to not attract the attention of the group that began to huddle around the doorway, they turned down the first hall they came to and kept going.

"So, have you seen Jenny yet?"

Sheldon shook his head, "Nope."

"That's two days in a row," Brad said, "I wonder what's wrong."

"It's probably nothing."

"No, Jenny never misses more than one day at a time. I'm gonna ask Ms. Wakeman what's up. You should come with so I don't have my soul taken away..."

"Can't," he answered, doing his best to keep the tone of his voice level, "I've got some errands to run after school."

**[][][]**

The drone arrived in roughly the same condition. Give or take a few missing parts.

The docking protocol was almost finished, a handful of uninformed workers making the simple procedure take much longer than needed.

"Alright, you can get off now."

Standing to it's full height, it ducked through the airlock of the drone, it's size making the ship creak as it dropped to the floor of the hangar. The guards had already slung their rifles from their shoulders and stepped back while it reached into the cockpit, never taking it's yellow eyes from them.

After a moment of fumbling through the interior, it grasped the weapon and pulled it through the opening.

They quickly raised their rifles and began to shout orders.

"Disarm, immediately!"

A blink was the reply.

The commanding officer stepped forward and flipped a switch on the side of his rifle, causing it to make a whirring noise.

"This is your final warning!"

Gripping the weapon, it's eyes began to change. The yellow iris appeared to glow as the sclera darkened to a pitch black. Thin lines began to appear, starting below the eyes and continuing under it's jumpsuit, becoming visible on the forearms and hands.

A look of terror crept over them as they turned to their commanding officer. Unable to speak, he began to fire, the rest of the squad following.

The beams hit their mark, doing little more than annoy the beast at which they fired. Raising it's own weapon, it fired, the pulses hitting their targets. Each shot that landed on the guards sent them flying, tumbling backwards until they met the resistance of the steel wall behind them.

With the rest of his men defeated so easily, his resolve crumbled, making his knees tremble and ultimately give way. His rifle tumbled out of his grip and landed on the floor with a loud thud.

Accepting his defeat, he did little more than stare up at the hulking form of his impending doom.

The sound of the blast doors sliding open caught their attention and a group of higher ranked soldiers walked in, running toward them.

The creature spun and leveled it's weapon, causing them to halt.

Stepping forward the leader began to reach inside her trench coat. Now it raised the rifle, signaling for her to stop.

Raising her left hand, she pulled a device from an interior pocket and quickly scrolled through it until she found what she was looking for.

"Tidas, I presume," she said as she extended the device, "We are here to escort you-"

She paused as it took the device and tossed it, the shattering sound echoing in the large, empty room.

"To Queen Vexus," she continued, "If you'll lower your weapon and come peacefully, we will lead you to her."

After looking over the group awaiting it's decision, Tidas exhaled, the color draining from it's eyes until back to the original. The lines began to dissolve and it slung the large weapon onto it's shoulder and started to the doorway.

Looking from her destroyed communicator to the traumatized guard, she adjusted her cap and turned to follow.

**[][][]**

Just when it seemed the day couldn't get any worse, it did.

Granted it was the same torture he was accustomed to, but today was different. It seemed to bother him more than it would have any other day.

But now he was sitting at his usual lunch table, his tray pushed aside, the Anti-Matter shield disassembled and awaiting reassembly.

'I don't know what I was thinking,' he thought, setting aside the rather large box that originally contained it while dropping the device's internals into an obsolete and somewhat bulky mp3 player he'd had in wrist case at the bottom of his locker.

In order to fit it he had to create a new circuit board roughly the size of the power cell he'd used, but it was still compact enough to fit together.

"Now to solder the connections in," he said as he picked up his cold heat soldering iron and slid the rest of the parts and tools into his bag.

Father away, but not far enough, Don Prima was having a delightful conversation with another of the school's outcasts.

"So, Daisy was it?" he began, "I am not pleased. Can you guess why that is?"

She nervously shook her head, the glasses she wore taking a moment more to stop, "N-no, I mean, I haven't a clue."

He sighed, "Here I am, sitting at the second best table, while I have to look across the room and see the nerd brigade hogging the best one for themselves."

"It's not fair," a dark haired boy beside him said, "Almost like you forgot your place."

"Thank you, Brent, I was just getting to that."

"We were here first, so," Daisy said, her wavering voice doing little to intimidate her targets.

"I was afraid of that," Don said with a sigh.

Tiff began to rise from the table, causing Daisy started to step back, "You want me to clobber her, Don?"

Britt pulled her cousin back to the table, "Let us not meddle with the actions of the less civilized."

Don nodded, "Right you are. So, Brent, why don't you go reclaim our table and make an example?"

The dark haired boy nodded and stood from the table, sights set on Daisy.

"W-why d-d-don't you just take the table?" Daisy asked, still backing away, "We can move if you w-want it that bad!"

Brent shook his head and swung his fist back, "It's a little late for that."

Daisy covered her face as he came towards her.

Sheldon quickly moved between them and held his hand out.

Brent's jaw dropped as his fist stopped and became halted in a blue force field that emanated from his wrist. Sheldon glared back at him through the shield that held the attacker still, his face tinted by the blue color.

The entire table Brent had just left stared in confusion at the sight they were witnessing. Daisy peeked through her hands and witnessed the same sight everyone in the lunch room had.

The battery having been depleted, the shield disappeared, releasing the dumbstruck attacker to stumble forward.

Sheldon reeled backwards and swung as hard as he could.

**[][][]**

Nora sighed and leaned back in her chair, the frustration slowly building up inside her.

All of XJ-9's backup drivers were mixed up with thousands of her personal files when the computer was restored. She had mistakenly reset the computer to a time before she catalogued all of the drivers in the XJ partition, so they were renamed and sorted in with the entire contents of her drive.

An hour of searching had proved fruitless with less than a percent of the files organized.

She rubbed her tired eyes, the hour of staring at a computer screen affecting her more than it should have, that being a large part of her work.

The sound of clanking on the laboratory floor caused her to spin in the chair, "How's the body treating you?"

Jenny blinked and looked it over in the mirror, "It's not so bad."

Instead of the light blue and silver her previous body was, this one was grey. The rockets, lasers, and all other weapon systems were either disabled or not installed, along with several amenities such as night vision and turbine travel.

It seemed well built and pretty sturdy, but none of it helped her memory return.

"I'm glad I held onto the old thing," she said while resuming her search, "Nonetheless, it's only temporary. As soon as your old body is finished we'll switch you back."

She continued looking into the mirror. Her head was the first part repaired, her pigtails and face standing out amongst the dull body. She reached out to touch the mirror, but instead focused on her metal arm.

"How long until it's finished?"

She shrugged, "It shouldn't be more than a day or so, I have the machines running at double efficiency."

"And what about my memory?"

She paused for a moment, then continued searching, "That's… another problem. Your systems were set to wirelessly back up your files to my computer, but I'm having trouble finding it."

"When you find it, will reinstalling it make me remember the accident?"

She nodded, "With the damage done to your body in the crash, I had no idea the amount of data that had been corrupted. So, I thought it would be best to do a complete restoration. Everything would be reinstalled and you'd even remember things that you'd long since forgotten."

"What do I do until then?" she asked, growing tired of her reflection.

"Just wait, I'll find them soon enough. The world can take care of itself until then."

**[][][]**

Another one finished, pretty good cliffhangers on the first couple story-archs, so we'll call it a day here.

Gonna move on to a few older stories, so I'll work on the next chapter when I get a chance.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.


	4. (4) Machinehead

Alright, back again.

Thanks for the encouragements, I'm glad that everyone's liking it for the most part, and apologize it's taking this long to update. I'm hoping to make this a longer one, so it may be even later when it's finished.

So, I won't stall anymore. On with the show!

* * *

><p><strong>Who Made Who?<strong>

**Part 1: The Death Of What Used To Be**

**Chapter 4: Machinehead**

_"Breathe in breathe out  
>Tied to a wheel fingers got to feel,<br>Bleeding through a tar-decay smile  
>I spin on a whim I slide to the right<br>I felt you like electric light  
>For our love<br>For our fear  
>For our rise against the years and years.<em>

_Got a machinehead better than the rest  
>Green to red machinehead<br>And I walk from my machine  
>I walk from my machine."<em>

- Bush

**[][][]**

The door opened into the throne room, the heat from the many machines inside rushing out of the doorway.

The room was brightly lit and scarcely decorated, the only addition other than the computers was a large throne resting near the end of the room. Positioned around the throne, the string of large cables and wires were openly ran and connected to the inhabitant.

The first half of the escort filed in, the second pausing to wait for the large form of Tidas to squeeze through the door. Once inside, they reformed their ranks and crossed the room toward the throne.

"I don't care what problems you encountered," the queen said weakly, "I want it done. Understand?"

Nodding frantically, he began to back away, "Yes, Queen Vexus, I'll do my best!"

"What is this, an after school special? Do better than your best!"

Quickly shuffling past them, he disappeared through the door they had entered.

Removing her cap, the officer saluted, "Queen Vexus, this is Tidas."

Leaning forward in her throne, she grinned, "So, we meet at last, face to face, my boy. How was the trip?"

Tidas stepped forward and nodded politely, "Nothing I couldn't handle, my queen. And how are you?"

She waved a rusted arm toward the bank of machines beside her, "The years haven't been well, unfortunately. The conversion is taking longer than I'd hoped."

Again, he nodded politely, allowing his curiosity to fester, avoiding the embarrassment of asking.

"The conversion is for my new body," she said, grinning at his reaction, "This one has served it's purpose."

Looking down at the damaged and antiquated remains of her body, she chuckled, "Oh well, on to bigger and better things."

"Speaking of," he said, pulling a zip drive from his pocket, "I believe this is what you'd asked for?"

Her grin returned, "The data from the ship?"

"Of course."

"I'm glad that our first meeting didn't end in disappointment," she said while struggling to rise from the throne.

Tidas moved to rush forward, but she raised her hand, "Please, my dear, I can walk just fine."

The cables and wires drug behind her, coiling over each other until running out of slack.

Taking the drive from him, she raised it for the officer to see, "With this, we will know everything our enemy does."

Motioning to a worker, she gave him the drive with the instruction to install it on the main computer. Moments later, a previously blank screen on the side of the room flickered to life, the contents of the drive appearing in the browser.

Being wired into the network, she scanned the data, laughing as she did so.

"Project-62, the FEV serum as well as the antidote," she paused for a moment, glancing back, "Did you take care of what we talked about before?"

Tidas nodded, "I flooded the ship's ventilation with the spores from the virus."

"Good," she said, returning to the monitor, "Now the very same virus that created you will flood the galaxy, infecting everything in the blast zone. Accounting for the force of the explosion, it won't be long until it spreads, polluting the air of those that created it."

The screen switched to the folder with the antidote. After a brief glance, the screen returned to it's un-used state.

"The antidote won't be too hard for our scientists to replicate," she said, returning to where Tidas was waiting, "But something tells me you're not too interested in that."

He smiled guardedly, "I'm having too much fun to go back."

His smile was returned, "I think this is the beginning of a wonderful revolution."

**[][][]**

"Really, I can't thank you enough," Daisy said for the third time, "That monster was really gonna hit me!"

"What kind of person hits women?" the bored sounding girl beside her asked, her eyes focused on her phone.

"I wouldn't know," Sheldon said, the embarrassed grin stuck on his face.

"Still, that was pretty cool," she said, returning it to her pocket, "Not many people would stand up to the populars."

"Come on," Sheldon said, worrying that if he blushed any more his nose would start bleeding again, "It's not a big deal."

"Nonetheless, I'll think of a way to thank you."

"Please, don't worry about it."

The bell rang loudly, signaling the end of what was sure to be the most talked about lunch hour in Tremorton High history.

"Well, we gotta get to class," the girl said, nudging Daisy.

"Oh, yeah, well, I hope Mr. Fuller takes it easy on you."

Sheldon returned the wave as they walked away and sighed.

Touching the area around his left eye resulted in a flash of pain, telling him of the bruise that already began to appear.

Walking around the corner, he sat on the bench outside of the principal's office, the angry form of Brent sitting opposite him.

"Geez," Sheldon said as he sat down and stretched his arm along the back, "I think you knocked some of my teeth straight."

"Shut up, nerd."

"It really is a shame, though," he continued, "Getting beaten by a nerd in front of your friends."

"Don't say anything about my friends!" Brent shouted, catching the attention of the few students passing by.

"They seem to say enough about me. Do you think your friends will come visit you like mine did me?"

He slammed his fist into the back of the bench and they both jumped to their feet. Brent raised his fists into a boxing position, while Sheldon raised his own defensively.

"Round two!" Sheldon shouted, shaking his head and stepping backward.

Confused at what he was doing, Brent swung quickly, his fist colliding above Sheldon's left ear. Pretending the hit hurt more than it did, he crumbled to the ground.

"Yeah," Brent shouted, "No toys to save you now!"

Sheldon grinned and planted his hands firmly on the ground, catching him in the shins with a spinning kick. Brent fell and landed on his back, the force the impact leaving him dazed. Knowing he didn't fall far enough, Sheldon grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and pretended to trip. In his new position several feet back, Brent threw his hands up.

Sheldon began swinging, his right fist blocked by Brent's flailing arms.

"You could talk a second ago," he said, bringing his arms limp with a left hook.

Sheldon knew he'd gotten his point across, but something inside of him clicked and his vision began to blur into a hazy red.

It wasn't until he felt himself be pulled into the air that he began to regain control of himself.

"Hey, I said knock it off!" the principal shouted, picking up the scrawny figure of Sheldon while hurling him backwards.

Sheldon's limbs reacted automatically, causing him to land in a slide, ready to charge.

"Hey!"

Sheldon blinked and looked up at the principal.

"It's over!" Mr. Fuller shouted.

Nodding, Sheldon stood quietly while he crouched and began to look over the sprawled form of Brent.

Brent began to mumble as he was brought to a sitting position.

"Yeah, yeah, he didn't mess you up too bad."

Sheldon looked down at his fist, seeing the blood covering his split knuckles.

"What about you? Need to go to the nurse?"

Sheldon shook his head and held up his hand, "Not right away."

Nodding, he helped Brent to his feet and moved to unlock his door, "Then let's get this over with."

Brent gripped the side of his head and pushed Sheldon out of the way. They each took a seat in front of the desk, waiting as Mr. Fuller sorted through the mail on his desk. A minute and a half later, he reached the video tape.

Sliding it into the VCR, he pushed the power button on the TV and fast forward to the first fight.

The camera was oddly positioned, but in the bottom right corner, you could see Daisy backing away from the table as Brent stood. Mr. Fuller shook his head as Brent began to swing. Before impact, you could see Sheldon move to his position and the force field activate.

Blinking twice, Mr. Fuller glanced back to Sheldon who shrugged.

The fight was quickly broken up by the lunch room attendants, leaving the rest of the video unimportant.

Ejecting the tape, he pushed a button on the intercom, "Mrs. Carol, can you bring me the tape from the camera outside my office?"

Brent's eyes widened and he turned to Sheldon who allowed a small grin to appear on his face.

Another door in the room opened and the secretary walked in, phone against her ear and the tape in the other.

Smiling a thank you, Mr. Fuller slid the new tape in to show them both jump to their feet. Sheldon's body language shown him to be begging Brent to stop. After the first hit Sheldon fell to the ground, making the kick Brent received look accidental. When pretending to trip, Brent was drug outside of the camera's viewing angle, leaving the rest of the fight unknown.

Stopping the tape and turning off the TV, Mr. Fuller turned around.

"Well," he said with a shrug, "The camera doesn't lie. That's a week of suspension, Brent."

Jumping out of his chair, he pointed at Sheldon, "What about him?!"

Sliding to a file cabinet, he opened a drawer and pulled a thick folder from it. After searching the others, he found a second.

Putting them onto the table, he lifted the thick one, "This is the file of Brent Sawyer."

Dropping it to the desk, he raised the empty folder, "Sheldon Lee."

Brent scoffed and dropped back into the chair.

"The fact I had to look for Mr. Lee's should tell you that this is his first time in my office."

"He was still in on the fight," Brent mumbled, "Where's his punishment?"

"Punish him?" he asked, "For saving you?"

Brent looked toward him in confusion.

"Oh yes, attacking women is a criminal offence. If he hadn't stepped in you'd be on your way to Juvie."

Brent held his gaze for a moment before looking away.

"Now, I'll say this to the both of you. This ends here."

Sheldon nodded, "Of course."

"We've talked about you messing with your gadgets outside of Shop class, don't let me see it again."

Another nod.

Looking between them both for a moment, he nodded, "Alright, get back to class, Sheldon."

**[][][]**

Grabbing the box from the passenger seat, he turned and pushed the door closed with his back. Lifting the box onto the hood, he used his key to lock the door before walking into the building.

It had been nearly a month since his last visit, but the shop was just as he remembered it.

The lights were bright, but the dark paint scheme of the walls gave the effect of dimming the them at the same time. The aisles were crammed with everything the technophile would enjoy. Calwell circuit boards, JazzBlast resistors in all sizes, Tritium enhanced wire connectors, everything! And in the unlikely event you didn't find what you were looking for, Static could order it.

Dropping the box onto the counter, he rang the bell.

"No one's here," a voice yelled from the other room.

Sheldon took a small screwdriver from the counter and adjusted the spring tension on the bell, making it louder and ring longer. This time, he repeatedly tapped it.

Hearing the scraping of a chair against the tile floor, he slowed down slightly.

Appearing through the doorway, the man stopped upon seeing him, "Good lord, you're gone a month and you come back like this?"

Walking the rest of the way to the counter while running a hand through his black and white hair, he looked over the black eye and bandaged knuckle, "Geez, I don't wanna see the other guy.

Tapping on the box, Sheldon slid it toward him, "Issue 101 through 300 of _Clobber Bot _for your enjoyment."

His eyes lit up while he opened the top and began flipping through the comic books, "Issues 101 through 300?!"

He stopped suddenly, his face taking on a hint of suspicion, "Just what is it you're working on?"

"Classified."

Sighing, he closed the box and carried it into the back, "So, the usual arrangement?"

"Yep, half to the Bad Lad's budget, half store credit."

Returning to the counter, "I don't know what you're building that needs that much collateral, but it must be something awesome."

"Go out with a bang, as they say."

Static blinked, eliciting a sigh from Sheldon, "I think this is my last one, Static. I've lost the desire."

"I don't believe it. You build things to help people."

"I build toys," Sheldon returned, "I build gadgets, gizmos, things that are impressive to the normal person. Impressive, but already thought of."

"You're not planning on becoming a vigilante or something, are you?"

"I don't know, I just want to really help people, you know? And I'm not gonna do that making laser pens, or rocket skates."

Static looked away for a moment before nodding slowly, "Alright, what can I help with?"

Pulling a folded packet of papers from his pocket, he tossed it on the counter, "Here's a list of parts we need for the project as of now."

Static unfolded the papers and began glancing through the list, "MacPherson Dynamos, Cold Fusion power cells with forty G-pin adapters, triple zero gauge wire."

After flipping the pages he nodded, "Got everything here. Give me some time to get it all together."

Sheldon nodded and started walking around the shop, stopping at a glass display case. Inside was a pristine Ukrainian Model PNB-4UZ exo-skeleton from the movie, _Valkyrie of Chernobyl_. The movie poster was beside it, featuring an actor wearing the suit as the sun set over Pripyat, the Chernobyl power plant looming in the background. In addition to the military issue body armor, the suit contained a string of sealed hydraulic pumps run by an electric piston, the wiring of which ran the entire length of the arms and legs. The suit was the only of it's kind and gave the wearer the strength to carry several times their weight.

"Still got this old relic, eh?"

Static glanced over from one of the aisles and nodded, "Works great too. Used it to lift the delivery truck when it got a flat tire the other day."

Sheldon whistled, an impressive feat, even for an hydraulic jack, "Does it-"

"No, the film company kept the machine guns. Left the wiring for the AN/PVS-7, though," Static interrupted, already knowing what he was going to ask.

Thinking back to the work he had left to do on the Silver Shell, the idea struck him, "Say, what'd you want for something like this?"

**[][][]**

Jenny opened the door and seen Brad smiling back at her, "Hey, Jen. Where've you been?"

"Brad," she said quizzically.

"Yeah," he answered, "Did you forget about me in two days?"

Laughing nervously, she nodded, "Afraid so."

Brad glanced to her body, "Say, you look different, is everything okay?"

Looking down at her old, outdated shell she sighed, "Well, now it is, but-"

Appearing beside her daughter, Nora leaned to see through the doorway, "Who is it, dear?"

Stepping back instinctively, Brad cleared his throat, "Hey, Mrs. Wakeman, how's it going?"

"Hello, Mr. Carbunkle," Nora said, "What can I do for you?"

Now adopting a nervous tone, he chuckled, "Oh, nothing. Just curious if anything was wrong. I mean, Jen usually doesn't miss more than a day of school at a time."

Sighing, Nora crossed her arms and leaned against the doorpost, "There's been a few… complications, but I believe we have them sorted out now."

"Oh, that's great," he said with a nod, "So, she'll be back to school tomorrow?"

Jenny turned to face her mother, the same question having bothered her all day.

Nora glanced between the pleading looks of Brad and her daughter, "Well, her old body is almost repaired, and most of her memory has been recovered…"

"You lost your memory?"

Jenny nodded, "I still can't remember what had caused it and who Sheldon is, but mom was able to find the rest."

"Speaking of," Brad said, taking a moment to spread some of today's gossip, "Sheldon got in a fight today."

"Wow, I guess I did miss a lot."

"Mr. Lee?" Nora asked in disbelief, "A fight?"

Brad nodded, "Twice actually, was sticking up for someone."

"I can't believe it," she said, even after their brief encounters never pegging him for the violent type.

"You see, Jen," Brad joked, "Everything's falling apart without you."

**[][][]**

Sheldon hit the play button on his laptop and the music filled the garage. He nodded along while a window popped up.

Xenigma, "Hey, I finished a demonstration of the A.I. and sent you a video."

"Already started downloading it. By the way, would you be able to create a new operating system for the Silver Shell?"

Xenigma, "I'm glad you asked. When I first started following your work, I began to code an A.I. for the Shell. It'll be able to move itself, fight enemies, and take commands by voice."

"That's great. I'll also need you to make an PNB-4UZ command link for it."

Xenigma, "You got your hands on a PNB Exo-Skeleton?!"

"Yep, staring at it right now."

Xenigma, "Well, why stop there? I've been viewing the schematics and I think I have some improvements that could be beneficial."

"Such as?"

Xengima, "We'll save the weapons systems for later. Firstly, having the pilot access in the rear is a bad idea. A hatch in the back is a weak point and it's behind you, so you can't keep your eyes on it. If it's moved to the front, you can reinforce it and climb up one of the arms to enter."

"… You've been playing Goliath Drop, haven't you?"

Xenigma, "… The theories are sound."

"Sigh, well send me what you have and I'll see if I can pull it off."

Xenigma, "I'm sure if anyone can pull it off, it'll be you."

* * *

><p>Okay, pretty good end. We'll continue from here next time.<p>

Tried to make it longer, but still as interesting, and introduced some important details that'll come into play later.

Alright, thanks for reading and I hope it was worth the wait.


	5. (5) Rhiannon

Sorry this one took so long to update.

Probably four or so chapters left in the first part, then things will pick up a little more. Made a change to this chapter's title and intro, just to help speed things up.

So, let's get started.

* * *

><p><strong>Who Made Who?<strong>

**Part 1: The Death Of What Used To Be**

**Chapter 5: Rhiannon**

"_Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night  
>and wouldn't you love to love her?<br>Takes to the sky like a bird in flight  
>and who will be her lover?<br>All your life you've never seen  
>woman, taken by the wind<br>Would you stay if she promised you heaven?  
>Will you ever win?<br>_

_She is like a cat in the dark  
>and then she is the darkness"<em>

- Fleetwood Mac

**[][][]**

The Shell was completely gutted, leaving behind an empty hull that Sheldon could comfortably stand up in. He began hammering out the dents while the mechanical whining of his printer droned over the music in the background. Running his hand over the area he'd just finished hammering, he nodded with approval. He looked around the now spacious cabin and the worries of having to extend the body began to melt away.

Without the captain's chair and a control panel, he'd be able to fit inside even if he was wearing the exoskeleton.

He turned and looked to the opening where the hatch had been. Xenigma did make a good point, with the entrance on the back it is a weak spot.

The printer kicked off suddenly, followed by the music, leaving an almost cosmic form of silence hanging in the air.

Jumping from the opening, he carefully stepped over the detached arms and legs as he crossed the room to the work bench. Looking back over the mess he created only reminded him of the cramped conditions working in here compared to his workshop. He didn't like the idea of returning to it, in fact it made him feel as if this wasn't his last project, but admittedly it was more spacious and a safer work environment.

Anyway, on to what's next.

The popup notified him the video had finished downloading and with a few clicks it began to play.

The quality shows it to be recording from mid grade webcam separate from the computer. A young woman roughly his age with stunning facial features stands leaned over the table while looking into the camera. The light source above the camera danced across her eyes, causing the purple of her irises to almost glow behind the thin, black framed glasses covering them.

Blinking several times, she turns to look at the computer monitor, showing a long ponytail of blonde, almost white hair dancing behind her. She pulls a stopwatch from her white lab coat and reads the display for a moment. Clicking the button, she steps away from the desk and bows politely.

"Test one of two on operating A.I., Euclid," she said slowly enough to be heard clearly in the echoing room, a slight amount of Russian accent pushing it's way through.

Stepping out of the way, the camera shows a large, organized workshop nearly the size of his own. On a table within view, a pair of grey arms stand braced against a thin, metal frame. Three coils of wires wrap their way from the back, dropping off onto the floor.

The dull thud of boots on tile comes from off screen and she wheels the table closer, being careful to remain out of view.

"Shown are a pair of common biometric articulating robotic arms connected to a high end portable computer," she informs over the sound of her footsteps.

Returning back to the table, she places a small guitar amp beside the arms and begins connecting something to the frame.

"Attached is a common, low-end, six string electric guitar plugged into a forty watt, solid state amplifier."

She turns all the knobs down before flipping the power switch on the amp, the loud pop and subsequent hum showing it to be as low-end as the guitar.

"Beginning test one," she said while moving off screen.

"_Test one, beginning," _a robotic voice mimicked as the arms began to twitch.

The hum of the amplifier was joined by the mechanical whirring of the arm's servos as they moved toward the guitar.

With frighteningly human movements, they adjusted the volume and tone setting before moving into a playing position. The right hand plucked the strings while the left spun the tuners until every string was pitch perfect.

Tapping on the body to keep beat, the left hand fingered the first chord. The right hand began strumming, it's timing perfect to the song, a familiar one he'd several times.

"Last dance for Mary Jane," he mumbled as he nodded along to the beat.

Being only a medley of the actual song, they quickly moved into the solo, every note of the blues arpeggio ringing exquisitely, every bend droning melodically.

Only a minute later they stopped, returning to standby.

Switching off the amp, she pushed the cart out of the way and returned to the desk. Back in front of the computer monitor, she checks the stopwatch again. Right as she clicks the button, the video ended.

Sheldon nodded, "Pretty impressive."

The next video began instantly, the background showing a thick forest surround the small clearing in which the table was resting, the arms still attached.

"Test two of two on operating A.I., Euclid," she shouts over the wind.

Sheldon leans in from where he was resting against the bench as she holds a large pistol in front of the camera.

Dropping the magazine and locking slide, she turns it over while she clears her throat, "AMT Longslide Hardballer chambered in .45ACP. The ammunition in use are hand loaded hot rounds, thirty grains over standard."

Sheldon winces, fearing he was about to witness the detonation of a bomb.

Placing them on the table beside a pair of binoculars, she types a command on the keyboard of the laptop.

"Beginning test two."

The arms return to life and she slides the pistol into it's reach. The right arm picked up the pistol with the same humanlike movements as the previous test. Tossing it in the air, it catches it upside down while simultaneously tapping the magazine on the table before slamming it into the breech.

She kneels down with the binoculars in her hand as it releases the catch on the magazine.

"Fire at will."

The first shot is deafening, even the video causing him to wince. She unflinching watches as three more shots continue down range. The pistol suffers an FTE, but the arms expertly eject the stovepiped shell.

"High left," she informs.

The arms make an adjustment so miniscule he almost didn't catch it, and send the last three screaming into the forest.

"Clear the weapon and return to standby."

The arms eject the magazine and place it carefully onto the table. Walking off camera, she returns a minute later with a paper target. Four shots were slightly above and to the left of the bulls-eye, while the last three were dead center.

The video ends just as abruptly as the first.

Exiting out of the video player, he puts his hand on the lid of the laptop and slowly closes it, looking to the floor in front of the bench.

**[][][]**

Tidas shook his head, "No, it would take too long. Their sensors would pick up our assault craft and trip the alarms."

The officer rubbed her tired eyes with a sigh, "But this is the only service entrance of the installation."

Every plan she'd proposed, plans that have taken months to conjure and troubleshoot, he gave several reasons they wouldn't work.

"Ok, what about-"

Tidas raised his hand to silent the officer while he looked over the map.

The image shown was a decent sized military storage facility on an artificial moon of Mars with several chess pieces being strategically placed to show important areas. There was numerous additions made, one being an upgraded distance scale. Instead of being to the side, it was drawn over the image, showing the distances to close planets and points of interest.

"How did you get this information?"

The officer sat with her head between her arms, furiously rubbing the back of her head out of frustration, "A large majority of the queen's militia are Ganymedian defectors."

Two large black lines catches his attention, "What are these?"

Turning the map to get a better look, she points them out, "This is the range of Earth's tracking satellites. This line is the military's, and this one is a civilian's by the name of Wakeman."

He was unsure why, but his hatred began to increase the longer he looked at the small, blue marble of Earth.

"The planet isn't very big," she began, running out of ideas, "What if we drill into the base from the opposite side?"

Tidas shook his head, "A drill that big would cause the planet to crumble into itself."

Taking one of the small chess pieces that represented their armada, he began inching it into the main entrance.

She scoffed and shook her head, "You're insane."

Taking the second, he began to inch it toward the service entrance.

He allowed a small grin to appear while she looked between the two pieces, "Team one causes the distraction and fights it's way to team two, who will have entered the service entrance in the confusion."

Her face shown she was calculating the odds.

Tipping over the queen used to show the battleship they were to take, he nodded, "Checkmate."

"We don't have that kind of firepower," she said, her voice deceiving her, "Most of our soldiers have only basic armor."

"You already know it's the best chance we have," he said while tapping weapon laid across his lap, "Me and Project 62 are the only distraction you need."

**[][][]**

Dropping behind his desk, he begins sorting through the mail. Several envelopes, magazines, and sheets of paper littered the space in front of him, but one caught his attention more than the rest.

Grabbing the black bordered envelope, he broke the seal and pulled free the note inside as his cell phone began to ring.

Flipping it open, he cleared his throat, "Lieutenant Lee.

"Hello, Mr. Lee," the familiar voice began, "This is Mrs. Harris from next door."

"Yes, Mrs. Harris," he says politely while he begins skimming through the note, "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was walking into my kitchen when I heard a strange noise."

"Uh-huh," he said, his attention divided.

"It, it sounded like, uh, like an older car backfiring. So, I look through my window and I see your boy, Sheldon, open the front cover, thing. He waved when he seen me, then I waved back and went along with my business."

"Uh-huh."

"Well, maybe ten minutes later, I look through the window again and I seen the strangest sight."

"And what was that?" he asked, knowing when it came to his son Sheldon, strange could be anything.

"Well, he had that, uh, that… robot of his loaded into the back of the truck, and he was wearing some kind of… suit of armor. Not like knight's armor, mind you, but an almost science fiction-y suit of armor."

"He does have a weird taste in clothing."

"That's not all," she said, her voice wavering slightly, "He… picked up the truck."

"Yes, it's an old pickup truck."

"No, he picked it up, high over his head! Like a chair, or table."

Setting the note down, he leaned forward, "Have you been drinking, Mrs. Harris?"

"I should say not!" she shouted, "I haven't touched the devil's sweat since Herbert passed!"

"He was holding the truck over his head?"

"Yes, then he carried it off into the forest to do god knows what with it!"

"Hmm," he answered, confusion blurring his thoughts.

"Now, I know Sheldon's a good boy and everything, but… this seemed like something you should know."

He nodded, "Yes, Mrs. Harris, I'll have a talk with him when I get home. You have yourself a fine day."

Hanging up, he flipped the phone closed.

"Hmm," he said again while he scratched at his thin beard.

Eventually shrugging it off, he returned to the note, recognizing the name of the sender.

"Lieutenant Lee," it began, "The old crone finally died. You and your son, Sheldon, are invited to the celebration. Fluffy kittens and hungry wolves, Kuznetsoy Petrikov."

"Still have that morbid sense of humor, Kuz," he said with a sigh. The date read tomorrow at four o'clock, in the town over.

If they left right as Sheldon got home from school, they'd make it there a quarter after the wake started. Setting the note aside, he moved onto the rest of his mail with the phone call playing itself over and over in his mind.

**[][][]**

Sheldon wiped his mouth and coughed as he leaned away from the toilet, the servos of the exoskeleton humming as they pumped the fluid through the hydraulic lines.

Staring up at the ceiling through a cold sweat, he felt the nausea wash over him. Lifting his arm, he hit the record button on the suit's communicator.

"Audio Log 3.2," he began, the strength it took him to speak leaving him breathless, "In addition to the previously mentioned red haze, sudden nausea struck me as I returned to the garage."

The light crackle of the older recording hardware preoccupied him as he regained his breath, the size of the exoskeleton causing him to feel claustrophobic in the cramped bathroom.

"I don't believe it was caused by anything I was doing prior. The PNB-4UZ exoskeleton was functioning flawlessly and I felt no strain while in use. For record, I used it to move the truck and the Silver Shell to my workshop when it refused to start, an estimated two and a half tons."

Pausing when he felt another retch in his throat, he waited to continue, "I haven't been taking this project as seriously as my teammates."

He sighed deeply and shook his head, the motion causing him to see stars, "Everyone else has been working hard, and I've just been moping around, feeling sorry for myself. I have decided to put my full attention into working with what I can. I can assemble everything in no time, and finish my other projects without any trouble."

He paused for a moment, "That is if this sickness allows me too."

After hitting stop he sat for another moment more, his breathing stabilizing as the sweat began to clear. Standing up and looking into the mirror, he made a mental note his pupils were dilated.

'_Well,' _he though as he turned away, _'Now to find out what's wrong with the truck.'_

**[][][]**

The door slid open as the pounding of the footsteps reached the room, the owner dashing inside and waiting in front of the desk.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, his attention still preoccupied by the one of the few security videos that weren't corrupted.

"The vapor analysis from the destroyed ship has finished," he informed, placing the file on the desk.

Without looking away, Arthur waved his arm, "Set it somewhere and I'll read it later."

"There's… a bit of a problem."

Pausing the video, he spun in the chair and opened the folder. He glanced over the report, his jaw dropping slowly as he reached the middle.

"The air was polluted with the virus?!"

Giving a nod, the man replied, "Yes, it seems the experiment did so before the ship was destroyed."

Arthur did some quick math, "An explosion that big could send the spores as far out and Uranus!"

"I've sent clean up crews to the area," he said, hoping he made the right decision to not wait for the order, "They should arrive within the week."

Arthur nodded slowly, "That'll buy us some time. We can at least fix some of the damage."

Opening an drawer of the desk, Arthur began searching for a pre-printed requisition, ultimately giving up in favor of a black sheet.

"Take this order," he said as he began writing, "And have the scientists begin making as much of the antidote they can. I want round the clock production."

Taking the paper, he paused, "There's another problem, all the data was on the ship. The backups were encrypted with the strictest security, it'd take a week at least to sort through the system."

Arthur nodded nervously, "Okay, nonetheless, get them together. Have half of them begin decrypting the antidote, have the rest attempt to recreate it from memory."

With a nod, the man began to leave.

"Wait," Arthur said suddenly, quickly speeding through the footage until he found the clip of Sheldon at the communications computer, "Send word to Mrs. Wakeman that we will be sending the antidote to her for the human."

"Anything else?"

"Yes," he said as he resumed the video, "Pray we're not too late."

* * *

><p>Alright, cutting it there.<p>

Thanks for reading, and again, sorry it took this long to update.


	6. (6) See You On The Other Side

Sorry for the absence, I won't bore you with the details. I'll make this chapter longer to make up for it.

So, there's three chapters, after this one, left in the first part, then I'll make an intermission chapter before starting the second part. So, let's get going.

* * *

><p><strong>Who Made Who?<strong>

**Part 1: The Death Of What Used To Be**

**Chapter 6: See You On The Other Side**

"_Hold Me, Hold Me Tight I'm Falling  
>Far Away, Distant Voices Calling<br>_

_I'm So Cold, I Need You Darling, Yeah  
><em>_I Was Down, But Now I'm Flying  
><em>_Straight Across The Great Divide  
><em>_I Know You're Crying, But I'll Stop You Crying_

_When I See You I See You On The Other Side_  
><em>Yes, I'll See You, See You On The Other Side"<em>

- Ozzy Osbourne

**[][][]**

"You really don't remember anything?" Brad asked as they walked.

Jenny shook her head, "Nothing."

"Hmm," Brad said as they turned onto the road leading to the school, "Maybe there was a comet hurdling toward Earth and you had to smash into pieces."

Playing back what she remembered, she sighed, "No, I remember an explosion and another robot. Then there was something fighting us."

"Us?"

She nodded, "Mom said his name was-"

"Yo! Sheldon!" Brad shouted as the rumbling truck cruised by them.

Glancing back, Sheldon tapped the horn while he turned into the parking lot.

"Sorry, who was with you?"

"I don't remember," she lied, her eyes zoomed in to watch the truck park.

"Oh well, you'll figure it out eventually."

"Yeah, maybe," she said, watching as he locked the door and grabbed his backpack from the bed.

**[][][]**

"There he is," Don said, watching as Sheldon stopped in front of the locker and began inputting his combination.

"Predictable, as usual."

"Release the hamster," he said, waiting for the second piece of his plan to fall in place.

Tiff mumbles while tossing the frightened animal to the spectacled nerd who runs away in fear.

"This whole idea sounds rather unorthodox," Britt informs, peeking around the corner.

"It'd be easier to use force."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Don began, "One must be able to admit they've underestimated their enemy."

"Still, mingling with the robot?" Britt added, "It's more of a punishment than tactic."

"To break a man is a simple task, but he can easily be rebuilt," he said with a grin as Jenny walked toward Sheldon, "To truly wound someone, you attack their heart."

Don turned the corner and began approaching Jenny, waiting until he passed her to make his move.

"Jenny," he said loudly, turning so he kept Sheldon in sight, "If it isn't my favorite robot!"

"Oh, hey, Don," she replied, her memory intact enough to remember her feelings toward him.

"I noticed you were absent the last couple days, is everything okay?"

"You noticed I was absent?" she asked, not believing him.

Holding the same smile, he nodded, "Of course."

"You'll forgive me if I'm a little reluctant to believe that."

While glancing over her shoulder, he turned on his charm, "Look, I know things haven't gone the best between us in the past, but I really do care about you, Jenny."

She stared at him in disbelief.

"Maybe we could, I don't know… go out sometime. Give me another chance to prove it to you."

"Well," she said, looking the floor while she scratched the back of her head, "I did read that the ChimpZ are coming to the city next month."

"Then leave it to me," he said.

The sound of a locker closing caught his attention, and he noticed Sheldon calmly walking away, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the book he read while he walked.

Defeated, his smile wavered and he sighed, "Well, I have to get ready for class."

Jenny nodded, suddenly remembering her intention of talking to Sheldon before class, "Yeah, I have to go, too."

"Until next time," he said with a wave as he started walking away.

"Nice one," Tiff said sarcastically as he rejoined them.

"Not even a glance."

He nodded, "All my talent for nothing."

"So, what's next?" Tiff asked, still ready to deliver a beat down.

"I guess we leave it to Richard," he said, "We still have bigger fish to fry."

**[][][]**

The hangar was bustling with the final preparations for the mission. The ships, both medium class cargo freighters, were undergoing their final assessments.

One ship was equipped for distraction, meaning it was stripped of it's previously fitted weapons and returned to it's commissioned status, while it's appearance was made to reflect that of an recent attack. That's not to say it didn't hold it's secrets. The ship's underbelly was hollowed and fitted with two large reserve tanks to allow the standard fuel tanks to be jettisoned on command.

The second ship would be on approach after the attack began, so it wouldn't have to blend in, allowing them to fit their less powerful weapons onto it. It was also lightened to make it more maneuverable, and carried only enough fuel for the trip there, it's return not planned.

"Alright, let's hurry up!" the officer shouted, her voice barely audible over the whirring of machinery.

"Carmine," the voice of Vexus said into her ear, "How are the final arrangements?"

Pushing the button of her earpiece, she cleared her throat, "The workers are just about finished and the assault team is in formation."

"Good. I leave everything in your hands."

"Yes, your majesty."

Stepping down from the raised platform, she crossed the floor to where the soldiers were assembled, half wearing concealed weapons beneath their engineer disguises, the others outfitted in armor and large rifles. They snap to attention as she stands before them, awaiting their final orders before departing.

"You have already been briefed on the mission," she shouts to be heard, "However, there has been a small change of plans."

Turning back, she looks up at the large ship, it's exterior showing it's past battles and the hasty repairs that kept it operational.

"The Rebel-I will not be returning with us."

The soldiers were visibly shaken, though they held their ranks as well as they could.

"Yes, it's true. The ship that has served with us since the beginning will meet it's end. Through every raid, patrol, and defense, it has never failed us. It's almost like we're losing a comrade."

Looking over her shoulder, Tidas stands behind her, his weapon resting on his shoulder, himself being squeezed into the largest suit of armor they possessed. Despite her judgment of him being arrogant and emotionless, she does admit to herself she respects the way he didn't interrupt the ceremony.

"Pilkins," she calls out, "What is it we do when we lose a comrade?"

Stepping from the assembly, an armor-clad soldier walks to where Carmine was standing.

Saluting, he yelled proudly, "That would be the Warrior's Prayer, Officer Carmine!"

She nodded, "You may begin."

Pilkins removes his helmet, showing a shaved head and a pair of dark blue eyes. A small scar on his jaw dances while he smiles to her and Tidas.

Turning to face his fellow soldiers, the workers and supervisors call for silence and face him. In the now silent hangar, he removes a small, leather bound book from a pouch on his armor, the condition showing it to be heavily read. Opening to the page he had marked, he cleared his throat and read the passage he committed to memory.

"We hold in our hearts the memory of our fallen brothers; in our body, their strength remains! In our mind, the call to battle on which every soldier must follow, even on the day of their glorious death! We also pay homage to our enemy, an honorable fighter who fought as we have, for what they believed in!"

Now looking to the book, he continued, "The path of a warrior is marked by blood! That of their enemy, and more often than not, that of themselves! There is a clearing at the end of the path, and in that clearing stands the large, weather beaten slab of marble, on which your last rites are written. 'Notch the handle of your blade, one side for every enemy soul owed to God when you finally meet him. On the other, one for every brother's soul God owes to you!'"

The crew gives a salute to the ship as he closes the book.

"Remember the dead," he begins, raising his fist as he shouts the rest, "But fight for the living!"

The entire hangar erupts in a piercing, barbaric shout, holding it as long as possible.

Pilkins returns the book to his pocket and slides his helmet over his head while Carmine faces the soldiers, "Our enemy may be taking a comrade, but we will be taking much more from the enemy!"

The shout returns, and she dismisses Pilkins to lead the soldiers into their positions.

"Not bad," Tidas said as they began filing into the ships, "Didn't expect that much of a religious routine from a band of rebels."

She nodded, "Queen Vexus doesn't care too much for it, but she understands it's effect on morale."

"Nonetheless, it's a lot of fuss over a ship."

Carmine sighs and looks back sadly, "This was the queen's first captured ship. It's been with us since the beginning."

"If it's so important," he asked, following her gaze, "Why is she sending it to it's death?"

Shaking her head, she started toward the ramp leading inside, "I don't know, but there must be a reason."

**[][][]**

Stepping through the door, Sheldon tossed his backpack on the couch and sighed, amazed he was able to keep it together today.

As he went to enter the garage, he catches the form of his father through the periphery of his vision.

"Dad?"

Tying his suit's matching tie, he nodded, "How's it going? I laid your suit out, go put it on."

Sheldon blinked, "Where're we going?"

"We have a wake to go to," he said as he walked into the living room.

"Your first day off in weeks and you have to go to a wake?"

He nodded, "I have a day off because of who it was. You were probably too young to remember him, but Simon Petrikov passed away."

Sheldon shrugged, "Don't remember him. Does that I can stay home?"

With a sigh, he shook his head, "No, you still have to go. For whatever reason, they asked both of us to be there."

Realizing the futility of arguing with his father, Sheldon went to his room and began putting on his suit. The process taking only a couple minutes, he slumped into the chair behind his computer and quickly logged into E-1337 Engineering.

"Alright, quick update, don't have too much time."

The notification sound of Jay-Sin22 and Danimal442 joining the chat rang through the speakers before he could twist the knob.

"Are you finished, yet? We have to get going!"

"Almost," he shouted back, "Just another minute!"

Jay-Sin22, "Just sent out everything I could get ahold of."

Danimal442, "Me too. Between the both of us we should have both our lists on the way."

"Alright, great. I began assembling everything I could, so it shouldn't be that long until the prototype is together."

Danimal442, "I had everything expedited, so it shouldn't be more than a day or two."

Jay-Sin22, "If it's as fast as the power cells you sent arrived, they'll be there tomorrow."

"I'm going to the car!"

"Coming!" Sheldon shouted.

"Alright, good work guys. I'll check in with Xenigma later on."

**[][][]**

"I had an interesting conversation with Mrs. Harris," he said over the engine as he turned on the blinker and merged into the lane for the exit.

"Oh?" Sheldon asked.

"She'd said something about you wearing a suit of armor and picking up your truck and that robot."

"Well, Mrs. Harris is old," he answered, "Her eyesight isn't as good as it once was."

"Look, I could care less what you do while I'm away. Just, try not to disturb the neighbors."

"Yeah, yeah," he said with a sigh, "Who was this Simon, anyway?"

"Simon was my squad commander when I was sent to help the Ukrainian secret service. You should remember him a little, we used to get together all the time."

Sheldon shook his head, "Nothing."

"Well," he said as he turned off the freeway, "_Komandir_ Simon was a unique person. He could tell everything about a man, just by looking at him. Then there's Kuznetsoy, a _Praporshchik_. I doubt Gabriel will be there, but he might."

"A junior officer?" Sheldon asked.

"Close. They removed that rank in 1917 and brought it back in the 70's as an Warrant Officer. Kuznetsoy," he said with a chuckle, "He used to call me _Pindosi_ instead of Peter."

"Penguin?"

Peter nodded, "The American military gear was much different than theirs. We'd be so loaded down that we'd have a sort of waddle when we walked. Our squad was pretty much self governed, so we only wore the basics. If it wasn't for our military ties, though, we'd be mercenaries."

Seeing the sign for the funeral home, he turned on the blinker and slowed down for the turn.

"Now, you might hear a lot of things about me, today. It's best to take it with a grain of salt, things were different then."

"It wasn't that long ago," Sheldon said, instantly regretting it due to the look he received, "But I get it."

Peter nodded and swung the large, military sedan into a parking spot.

"Alright, let's get this over with. I'm sure you didn't want to spend the beginning of your weekend here any more than I do."

**[][][]**

"Cargo ship, D44B, requesting permission to dock."

The worker in the communications office sat up in his chair and slid on his headset, "We got a ship requesting permission to dock."

Another worker entered the room and connected his headset to the board, listening in on the exchange.

"This is Delta's communications office. Respond, D44B."

"Delta, this is cargo ship D44B, requesting permission to dock. Ship is barely operational, and requires emergency landing for repairs."

"D44B, this is Command Officer Pierce, what are you doing in this vicinity?"

"Delta, we were dispatched to deliver a shipment of weapons and ammunition. There were two in our group, but we were separated by a rebel patrol. We were heavily damaged and escaped only by jettisoning most of our cargo."

Switching off his microphone, Pierce jerks his head toward the delivery roster, "Check it out."

Unplugging his headset, the board operator leaned back and pulled a clipboard from the wall. Flipping through the pages, he shook his head, "Nothing listed for D44B, though D44A is scheduled around this time."

"D44B, what happened to the other ship?"

"Delta, we encountered enemy cruisers on route and D44A separated to prevent total loss and damage of their cargo. The dispatch was only given the name of one ship due to suspicion of delivery information being leaked."

"What do we do?"

Pierce looks through the window overlooking the empty hangar, "I really don't want to explain to Hughes why we denied refuge to a disabled ship. Allow them permission to enter, but call all the guards to the hangar."

The officer nodded and enabled his headset, "D44B, you have permission to land. Welcome to Delta."

**[][][]**

Immediately excusing himself to the bathroom where he splashed water over his face, he now found himself staring at a large, glass enclosure of various kinds of birds. Not wanting to join the others, he continued watching them flutter around, enjoying the calming effect it had among the glances and hushed whispers directed at him.

Phillip, as he named one of the twin parakeets, landed beside Lillith on one of the artificial branches and glanced at him peculiarly.

Leaning in, he blinked and tilted his head, the bird mocking his movement. As he leaned in further, the bird scooted toward him, eventually running out of branch and falling. Catching itself, it glided to another branch and proceeded to peck at a plastic, green leaf.

"Neat, aren't they?"

Standing up, he nodded without looking away, "Yeah."

"I like the doves," the feminine voice replies.

"I'm-" he begins to introduce himself, faltering when he sees the owner of the voice.

"Sheldon. I remember you."

The purple eyes, black rimmed glasses, and the blonde hair.

"Xenigma?"

Allowing a smile to appear, she shakes her head, "Rhiannon will do."

"Why do I know that name?" he asks, his memory suddenly foggy.

Jerking her head toward the viewing room, she sighed, "I'm Kuznetsoy's daughter, we met at one of Simon's birthdays."

The fog begins to lift and he finds himself in a room with several other children and a smiling, elderly man telling a story. Even back then he was an outcast, satisfied with staring out of the window in the corner by himself.

"Alright, I kind of remember."

"I'd be offended if I didn't remember how boring those parties were," she said with a chuckle, "Anyway, let's join the others. They're getting ready to give the salute."

Giving a nod, he followed, allowing himself to take a moment to let everything register.

The faint clack of heels differed from the thudding boots in her video, and her lab coat was replaced with a long black dress made of a thick fabric that covered her curves well.

Realizing what he was looking at, he blushed and looked away, thankful he was in the back.

"So, you're Xenigma?"

She nodded, her hair not tied but billowing behind her instead, "Honestly, I thought you'd figure it out. It has been ten years, though."

"Really, that long?" he asked.

Another nod, "You and his grandchildren didn't really get along, you being American and all. Simon missed you, though."

"Simon?"

Turning into the room, she looked to the group, "The old man."

For some reason, the sight of the casket and the men gathered around it had a strange effect on him.

"You're not going to freak out, are you?"

Shaking his head, he forced back the nausea and cleared his throat, "Of course not."

"Good, let's go."

As they approached, the group turned toward them, all shouting in the empty room.

"Sheldon, _Dobro Pojalovat_! Come here, _bratan_!"

He endured the embrace of the large man while ignoring the smell of alcohol.

"Kuznetsoy, let him go, you're gonna kill him!"

Kuznetsoy laughed and obeyed, shoving the man who said it, "Don't get too ahead of yourself, there, _Michman_, don't forget who the _Praporshchik_ is!"

Shoving him back, he shook his head, "_Gospodi Pomiluj, _have some respect for the _Komandir_!"

"That's right!" Kuznetsoy shouted, turning toward the casket, "_Komandir_ Simon! My father, all of Russia weeps at the loss of the father of half the population! And now, I'll live in your shadow as second greatest at the Russian Arts!"

Sheldon's dad shook his head and laughed, "The only woman I remember you grabbing was your A.L.I.C.E.!"

The group breaks out in laughter with Kuznetsoy struggling to breathe, "Hey, _Pindosi_, that's a good one!"

"You'll have to excuse him," Rhiannon said with a shake of her head, "That's how he deals with it."

"Anyway," Kuznetsoy said with a sigh, "Let's get this over with and go back to the house. Can you believe they don't allow alcohol in here?"

Opening his coat, he removed a silver flask and several shot glasses.

"You smuggled in alcohol?" Peter asked, his tone of voice saying he wasn't surprised.

"What?" Kuznetsoy said with a smile, "It's Stolichnaya, for the _Komandir_."

He began handing out the glasses, pausing when he came to Sheldon.

"Yea, or nay?"

Peter looked between the flask in his hand to Sheldon, eventually sighing, "Only because it's the _Komandir's_ salute. But you better not like it."

"Hey, _spasibo, bratan_. Simon'd appreciate it."

Sheldon took the glass and stared into it, his heart beat steadily increasing as Kuznetsoy began filling them.

"Gabriel, I'll overlook you joining the _dushman_ if you lead the salute."

Giving a nod, he raised his glass, "_Rota, ruki vverh_!"

Everyone raised their own glass, Sheldon glancing to everyone else to keep from messing it up.

"_Na Drove_!"

Repeating the shout, Sheldon winced as the liquid burned down his throat, settling in his stomach where it began to spread warmth throughout his body. Closing his eyes, he forced away the desire to cough, fearing he'd offend the rest who seemed to enjoy it. Beside a brief flinch, even Rhiannon endured it well.

"Ah, _molodets_," Kuznetsoy said while taking his glass and refilling it, "We'll leave the _Komandir_ with your glass. You were the favorite, after all."

Sheldon forced himself to look to the man in the gasket, now with a shot glass in his hand. His wrinkled and dark face was ironic compared to his ailment. Even giving most of his appearance credit to the embalmer, Sheldon could tell he was happy in his life, and would remain so in the next.

Kuznetsoy watched the casket, eventually sighing and turning away, "Well, let's take the party to the house. I could use another drink."

"You just had one," Gabriel said while grabbing his jacket from a nearby chair and sliding it on.

"Funniest thing, I could use another."

Peter looked to Sheldon, "Is that alright with you?"

"Yeah, is it alright with you?" Rhiannon repeated.

"Well, I guess it's-" Sheldon began, getting cut off by Kuznetsoy.

"Great! I gots the needs for speeds!" he slurred while he checked his pockets for the keys, "Where's my keys?"

Gabriel held up the ring and shook it, "We took them from you at the beginning."

"It was for the best," Rhiannon said.

He sighed and shook his head, "Do I at least get to sit up front and go vroom?"

* * *

><p>Alright, starting to get carried away.<p>

My Russian (or whatever language my babble ended up being) isn't as good as I want it to be, it not being the one language I speak, but I think I translated them good enough, though I'm sure I butchered it. If you speak Russian or whatever language they are, and see it doesn't make complete sense, I'd appreciate you telling me so I can edit it.

Anyway, thanks for reading, sorry it took so long.


	7. (7) A Laptop Like You (Part 1)

Next update.

* * *

><p><strong>Who Made Who?<strong>

**Part 1: The Death Of What Used To Be**

**Chapter 7: A Laptop Like You (Part 1)**

"_Here you are at last  
>To bring my cold lonely soul sweet release<br>From my weary past  
>Always searching, the one missing piece was you<br>And I beg you, come away with me  
>And together we will find a place to call our own<br>_

_I can't wait to see what I can do  
>With a laptop like you"<em>

- Jonathan Coulton

**[][][]**

The shield was disengaged as the ship lumbered into the hangar, the droning of it's single functioning engine wavering as the landing gear descended. Dropping to the floor with a thud, the engine ceased operation and rumbled to silence.

The cargo door slowly opened and the form of Tidas landed on the ground, three soldiers not for behind as they waited for the lift to drop.

"Overseer Mayweather," said the stocky man as he extended his hand.

Tidas forced the best smile he could and grasped the hand while producing his forged documents, "Captain Maximilian Valentines."

Glancing between the picture and his face, Mayweather nodded, "Seems like you had some trouble."

Turning toward the spark throwing ship, he nodded, "Yes, unfortunately. Nothing the old girl can't handle, though we'll need repairs before we leave."

"Of course," he said, waving to a group who were standing near the edge of the platform, "Gentleman, see what you can do."

Descending the stairs to the landing platform, the maintenance team approached the ship, stopping only when Tidas spoke to them.

"Give it a minute, if you will. My crew will unload the cargo then you can take the lift. The gangway seems to be on the fritz."

Nodding, the team leader looked back to the ship as the weapons lowered.

"C'mon, move it! I'll shoot anyone I catch slacking off!" a soldier shouted to the uniformed workers.

"Looks like some heavy cargo," Mayweather said, watching as the disguised soldiers carried the boxes to a point away from the ship.

"We were able to hang on to the best of the shipment."

With all the cargo unloaded, several soldiers and the rest of the engineers dropped to the floor of the hangar and assembled behind the boxes. The soldiers took places behind each box and looked toward Tidas, waiting for the command.

The maintenance team rode the hydraulic lift into the cargo bay, the fire of silenced rifles muffled by the sealed door as it locked into place. Hearing the slaughter on his earpiece brought a small, genuine smile to his face.

"Don't worry, those are the best technicians in the military."

"What a shame," Tidas said with a sigh, "We should have kept them."

Confusion flood's his face as he blinks, "Excuse me?"

"The technicians. They were sent to you from Alpha, our base, correct?"

Mouth agape, Mayweather thought for a moment, eventually nodding, "Right, right, I believe so. Then you know your ship's in good hands. Why not come rest until they finish?"

"_Rebel-I in position," _a voice in his ear informed him, _"Awaiting signal."_

"We still have one more task to complete," he said, giving a nod to the group.

The soldiers began opening the crates, the hissing of the seals being depressurized echoing in the empty hangar. The engineers formed lines in front of the soldiers and took the weapons they were being handed.

The guards on the platforms raised their weapons and began shouting orders.

"What's going on?!" Mayweather shouted, reaching for his sidearm as he began stepping back.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Tidas said while raising his hands, "Calm down! We were instructed to inspect the shipment for damage!"

The nervous guards began looking between the group and their commander, awaiting the command to open fire.

Mayweather glanced between the group still receiving and checking the weapons and the large man with his hands raised in front of him before giving the command to stand down.

"Here," Tidas said, lowering his hands and back stepping to the box, "I'll show you the best of the shipment."

Pilkins allowed a small grin to appear on his face as he handed the weapon to him. Tidas acknowledged with a similar but more discreet motion.

"Since you are highest in command, this will be yours."

Tidas raised the weapon and began removing the power cells to check their levels.

"What is it?" Mayweather asked in awe.

"This," Tidas said with a smile, "Is a prototype Gauss rifle named, Project 62. It spent four years in development and cost three million GD's to build. Capable of piercing a solid three inches of concrete and steel without leaving a mark."

Mayweather was unable to unable to contain himself. His arms began to raise anxiously and his eyes danced in the light.

Receiving a loud beep as he replaced the cells, he grinned, "It is quite a formidable weapon."

The visibly proud emotion of the benefits he was receiving due to his hard earned rank were the second to last thing to pass through his head.

**[][][]**

Stepping out of the car, Sheldon shook his head in an attempt to regain some of the color, the drive here doing more than leaving him pale.

"Hey, _Pindosi_, that car is fast!" Kuznetsoy shouted as he stumbled from the passenger seat of his own, "If I knew you'd get a car like that dating Mr. Sam, I would have defected long ago!"

"Har-har," Peter said as he hit the button to lock the doors.

Rhiannon closed the door and sighed, her face similar to Sheldon's, "Where'd you two buy your license?"

"Don't blame me!" Gabriel shouted, "He was grabbing the steering wheel and kicking the gas pedal!"

Peter stood from where he was inspecting his rear bumper for damage and shook his head, "You're lucky, you know that? It's a federal offence to damage a government vehicle."

"Come on, it was just a bump."

"My teeth are still rattling," Gabriel added with a shake of his head.

"You babies can sit here and cry, but I'm going inside," he said as he began climbing up the steps only to stumble and fall back down.

"Come on, up you go," Gabriel said as he easily hefted him to his feet.

Waving his hand he stumbled forward, "Easy, now, I'm not that drunk!"

Hanging back, Sheldon looked up at the large house, it's color scheme suggesting it was designed in the early 20th century, but built much later. Two rows of windows glared back at him from the small hill the house rested on, the dark colored shutters appearing as eyelashes.

"Hurry up," the slurred voice shouted from the doorway, "The party has yet to start!"

Nodding, he quickly darted up the steps two at a time.

Stepping inside, he unbuttoned the jacket for his suit and hung it on the rack behind the door. As he began to untie his shoes, he received a nudge.

"Keep'em on," Rhiannon said as motioned for him to follow, "While the idiots kill the brain cells, we'll increase ours."

"_Ya Tebya Lyublyu!_" Kuznetsoy's voice shouts from an adjacent room, the pitch increasing to resemble her own, "_Ya Tozhe Tebya Lyublyu!_"

Turning away her flushing face, she mumbles and begins walking through the room quickly, allowing Sheldon only a few moments to glance around as he followed. Coming to a door differing from the others, she unlocked it with a key stepped aside for him to enter.

Overhead lights flickered to life as he stepped into the stairwell. As the lights warmed up, the clean paint of the steel walls leading down to another doorway began to brighten and show various scratches on their surface.

Pressing himself against the wall, she passes him and starts to the second door, visibly stronger than the last but with noticeable weak points, the most prevalent being the hinges on which it swung.

"_Svoboda_," she whispered.

There was a loud clunk as the door began to drift inward, a sign of bent hinge pins.

"So, this is the workshop," she said while moving to a bench along the left wall.

"It's nice," he said with a nod, remembering it from the demonstration video.

A large portion in the far side was sectioned off with a thick divider and collapsible door, making it appear smaller than it actually was. All the work surfaces were clean and the tool boxes were locked tightly.

"So," she said after a moment, "You created the _Clobber Bot _series?"

Sheldon laughed for a moment, digging at a knick on the counter he was leaning against, "Yes, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately? I thought it sold well for an indie comic."

"It did," he began, crossing his arms, "Better, actually. It was supposed to help pay for the Silver Shell - which it did and then some- but everyone talked about it like I was a genius or something."

"Come on, I've seen what you've been building."

"The thing no one understood is that it's all based off true events. Clobber Bot is really a robot that fights crime."

"And you just took the events and transcribed them into a series," she asked with a shrug, "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," he said with a shrug, "Just lost interest is all."

"There's nothing I hate more than a self-loathing artist," she said with a sigh and a smile showing she was kidding, "Sounds like girl trouble, if you ask me."

"Well, I didn't."

Holding her hands up she laughed, "Okay, touchy subject. Answer me one question, though."

Raising his eyebrow, he waited, knowing he wouldn't enjoy it.

"Does it have anything to do with you building this android? Don't make me get the Sodium Pentothal."

Suddenly interested in a stain on the floor, he nodded, "Yeah."

Instead of probing further, she waited.

The feeling of her eyes staring at him became unnerving and he sighed, "I'm done inventing. I'm a builder of necessity, and I've lost that necessity. Every weapon, every defense mechanism, nothing was good enough."

Opening her mouth to speak, she hesitated when he continued, his eyes becoming vacant as if he was staring at something on the other side of the wall.

"I had her schematics, I knew her weaknesses. I tried to save her, but she turned me away, preferring to burn up in the atmosphere and crash to her death."

"So," she managed to squeak out, "You're planning revenge?"

He shook his head slowly, as if contemplating the thought, "No, I just want her to feel as useless as I did. I want her to watch as her replacement surpasses everything she was and could hope to be."

"Well," she said, walking to a cabinet, "Then you should start with this."

Unlocking the door, she unplugged a laptop that was charging in standby and brought it to the table. Raising the screen and tapping the space bar, she turned it toward him.

"Say hello to XJ-10."

A pair of pixilated eyes were hovering over the computer's desktop. Leaning in, he inspected desktop's icons and seen only the recycling bin and a internet icon.

"XJ-10?" he asked, not sure with whom to communicate.

"XJ-10, awaiting command," the stereo typical robot voice informed, the eyes blinking twice.

He glanced toward Rhiannon, confused by the seemingly non-existent free will, "What kind of artificial intelligence is this?"

Sighing, she shook her head, "She likes to play games."

"She?"

"You're building an XJ robot, if you wanted male A.I. you should have built an YJ."

The computer giggled at the joke, the eyes turning into semi-circles.

"Come on, this is the person who's building the robot you're going into."

"What do you mean," the same voice asked, "This is the voice I was programmed with."

"I didn't spend three hours listening to Japanese pop stars to give you the voice of a soft drink machine!"

"Playing, Creepy Ghouls and Polite Fairies."

Suddenly, the previously quiet speakers along the walls erupted into a flurry of computerized drum hits and squealing that rattled the walls as the dull thud of the bass rattled the objects in the cabinets.

Covering their ears, they crouched behind the table as if they could hide from the music being thrown at them. Just as suddenly as it began, everything fell silent, bringing them to slowly uncover their ears and stand.

"Thank god," Rhiannon mumbled.

"Wait a minute," Sheldon said as the speakers began to hum, "It's the drop!"

The speakers quaked in their wall mounts as the bass returned. They ducked again as the cabinet doors began to rattle, the ones with glass windows shattering and sending fragments raining over them.

"That's it! I'm pulling the battery!" she shouted while she grabbed the laptop.

"Alright, alright," it replied, the aural assault ceasing, leaving behind a silence that seemed as painful as the music.

Looking at the sudden mess her lab was in, her jaw dropped, a mixture of anger and disbelief struggling to break free.

"Why?!"

The voice laughed as if it played a simple, harmless prank, "That was great! Don't act like you didn't enjoy it!"

"I think my heart stopped," Sheldon said while clutching his chest.

"Come on, it wasn't that bad."

"I can't even process this right now," she said as she returned to the table, "Open the file on the Silver Shell."

The eyes disappeared and an image of a robot appeared on the screen. This robot's shape was different than the Shell's and appeared more feminine.

"Oops," the voice said sarcastically, "That's the Doppelganger file."

"I order you to delete that file immediately!"

"Fine," the voice said as the image disappeared and was replaced with the Silver Shell's.

"And what was that?" Sheldon asked with a grin.

"Yeah, what was that, Rhiannon?"

"Nothing…"

"You need to quit playing Goliath Drop," Sheldon said with a laugh.

"I know, right?" the voice said in agreement.

**[][][]**

"There's a problem," Tidas said into his earpiece, releasing the button as he looked over the carnage of the past battle.

"Don't say that," the irritated voice of Carmine replied, "We better have enough people to leave."

"That's not the problem," he said as he looked at the makeshift medic station and the groups barricading the doors, "We haven't had any causalities and only a handful of injuries."

"Good, because we're gonna need a lot of man power to get both ships out of here."

"Well…"

"Don't tell me-"

"The ship isn't here."

The earpiece crackled with static and the loud garbling of distant shouting. Rolling his right boot along the heel, he inspected the dark stains of blood along the edges, tuning out most of the yelling.

"Alright, alright. The communication's office should be overlooking the hangar. There should be a manifest for all scheduled ships. We're about finished with the Rebel-I so we'll stop at the clerk's office on the way to the hangar."

Nodding, he started up the stairway leading to the room above, the bullet ridden windows evidence of the short but fierce battle they faced.

'_Even using obsolete weapons,' _he thought, _'We still managed to overpower them.'_

The door creaked open and two shots buzzed at him, the recognizable hum of an energy weapon hanging in the air. Mouth drooping slightly, he looked down at the burn marks behind the still smoldering holes in his uniform, a mixture of panic and fury fighting for control.

His breathing increased to a seething, intense rhythm as the horrified board operator stared back from his spot on the floor in front of the unmoving body of the command officer.

The red haze began to creep into his vision as his body began to numb, the sound of soldiers running up the stairs to the platform behind him barely registering as he lunged toward the operator who was frantically attempting to fix the malfunctioning weapon.

Grabbing both bodies, he shouted as he swung them to the right and releasing them to crash through the glass window. The operator's cry is silenced as the rumble of half a dozen rifles bark to life.

His breathing and vision returned to normal as the soldiers reached him, weapons scanning the narrow room.

"The captain's hit!"

Waving his hand, he began searching the cluttered notice board, "I'm fine, go back and watch the doors."

Glancing to each other, they eventually turn and head back to the stack of boxes.

Touching the wounds on his chest, he winces, more from the insult of being caught off guard than the pain.

**[][][]**

"How the years go by," Kuznetsoy said with a sigh, "One minute you're in a house with your family, and the next you're in a box."

Downing the drink, Peter coughed, "Even immortals have to die."

"What happened to you, Peter?" he asked with a shake of his head, "This used to be like water to you."

Gabriel slid his empty glass away and shook his head, "Not all of us drink it _instead_ of water everyday."

"Lightweights, all of you. It's disgraceful to be in the same room as you," he said sternly, drinking straight from the bottle he'd brought to the table.

"Then why am I here?" Peter asked resentfully, "Furthermore, why did I have to bring my son here?"

"Listen to you," he returned while wagging a trembling finger toward him, "You dread seeing your _Komandir_ for the last time? You should be weeping from sadness!"

"It's not the commander I didn't want to see!"

Gabriel knew what was about to happen but did nothing to intervene, his own vision betraying him some time ago.

Kuznetsoy attempted to lunge from his chair and attack the man across from him, his lack of balance causing him to collide into the table. He was defenseless when Peter grabbed his arms and pulled him onto the table, dropping an elbow into his gut while sliding him to the opposite end, empty liquor bottles and glasses falling to the floor as he did so.

Even being drained of breath, he staggered to his feet with a shard of the bottle gripped in his hand.

Peter raised his fists and sidestepped to avoid the attack, grabbing the arm that passed him to swing it behind his attacker. Jerking upward resulted in the bottle dropping from the hand as he cried out, jumping into the air to drop to the floor, pinning the smaller man under the weight of his body.

Struggling to break free from his grasp, Kuznetsoy begins flailing while trying to head-butt the man beneath him. Leaning out of the way, Peter tightens the grip on his wrist and begins to twist it.

"I've had the same training as you!"

Crying out once more, he begins pounding the floor with his other hand, "Okay, okay, uncle!"

Peter lets go and pushes him away while pulling himself to a sitting position.

Panting, they both look back at each other with flushed faces, the contempt for one another slowly draining away.

"_Gospodi Pomiluj_," Kuznetsoy mumbles breathlessly, "Glad to see those years behind a desk haven't ruined you completely."

"What's your excuse?" he asks, throwing a fragment of the bottle in his direction while pulling himself to his feet.

Kuznetsoy extends his hand to be helped up. Peter stretches his arm out and crouches, avoiding the hand he was being offered and grabbed the only unbroken glass from the floor beside him.

"_Kak kholodno," _he grunts and grasps at the table to steady himself.

Dropping into his seat, Peter sighed, "Of course I wanted to see the _Komandir_ off. But why did Sheldon have to come?"

Kuznetsoy groaned and stood his own chair upright and sat, continuing the conversation as if nothing happened, "He loved Sheldon. Once he seen something in someone, that was it. He left him his field kit in the will. He still a deadeye with the Mosin?"

Peter nods, "Chasing an eight point buck last year he bounced it off a tree, shattering the scope. Tearing it off, he bagged it at four hundred and fifty yards with iron sights."

Gabriel whistled, "Not too shabby."

"The quiet ones are always the most skilled," Kuznetsoy returns, grabbing for the non-existent bottle.

"I believe that," Peter said, reaching back to grab another from the counter behind him, "You never shut up."

"It's a shame to keep a voice this beautiful inside," he slurred while taking the bottle from him.

"The house is quiet today," Gabriel said, "Where is everyone?"

"I don't know, something at the school."

"You still haven't kicked them out?" Peter asked as he filled his glass.

"What am I gonna do, kick Boris and his mother to the curb? Simon was the only friend they had in America."

"I bet Rhiannon loves that."

"Like a root canal," he answered with a scoff, "Every time he steps out of line, she puts him back. That's my girl. Love your family, to hell with anyone else."

**[][][]**

The ship hovered above the base, a safe distance away while close enough to stay in range. Loaded with both teams, the space was cramped but not enough to be too uncomfortable.

It's main fuel tanks were removed and now sat on the floor of the hangar, punctured and spewing fuel as they waited.

"Yes, we have the delivery manifests, and we emptied the armory," Carmine said, the shadowed form of Queen Vexus glaring back at her from the monitor.

"Very well," she sighed, "Switch to the channel and enjoy the show."

**[][][]**

In a very distant room full of lieutenants, Arthur sat with his hand crossed at the end of a long table.

"What's the status of sector seventeen's growth?"

Close to the end of the right side, a man cleared his throat while dabbing at sweat along his forehead, "The terraforming ran into a snag. At eighty-three percent, corruption began and we immediately ceased production and evacuated the sector."

"Quarantine the area until S.W.E.E.P.E.R.s finish with twelve."

The lieutenant nodded and wrote down the order.

"Have we managed to contact Nora Wakeman in regards to the possible contamination?"

A dark skinned man shook his head and turned the pages of his notebook, "No, sir. It seems she had increased the security of her network. The ship had sent samples of the blood found in the service deck, and it was tested to be confirmed of an FEV contamination."

"Okay, I want you to-"

Arthur was interrupted as the conference screen at the far end of the room flashed to life, a static garbled image of a large, dark room appearing.

The video cleared and the outline of a throne with a battered metallic and beheaded body laying discarded at it's feet.

The camera began to zoom in as a voice began to recite a poem.

"I met a traveller from an antique land who said: "Two vast and trunk-less legs of stone stand in the desert."

The murmuring that had begun had immediately ceased as the chilling story continued.

"Near them on the sand, half sunk, a shattered visage lies whose frown and wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command tell that its sculptor well those passions read which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things."

One of the men quickly stands and begins shouting for a technician. Arthur raises a hand to stop him. The camera panned down to show the body, it's yellow and green legs dented to the point of instability, the yellow and black torso faded and rusted from an untellable battle in it's past.

"The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed."

The camera panned up, now mere inches from the throne and the figure resting on top of it.

"And on the pedestal these words appear."

A cry echoes in the room as Arthur looks into the glaring green eyes that appeared.

"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings. Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

At this, several of the chairs topple as they scramble to their feet. The image changes to a view of a military base on a nearby moon.

"That's Delta!" a lieutenant shouted.

"Nothing beside remains," the voice said over the explosion that triggered near the end of the base.

"No!" several cry out.

The explosion spread to the opposite end of the base, tendrils of flame escaping to ignite the oxygen of the artificial atmosphere that surrounded it.

"Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, the lone and level sands stretch far away."

The room empties as several flee, many of them tearing the communicators from their pockets to futilely contact loved ones stationed at the now extinct Delta.

It wasn't long until Arthur is the only person remaining in the room, slowly accepting the fact that war was just declared against his home.

* * *

><p>Sorry it took so long, as always. I made it longer to make up for it since I don't know when the next will be finished.<p>

The poem used was one I found in the fair use sections a collected works website. It was also read by Bryan Cranston in Breaking Bad.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.

Ozymandias © Percy Blysshe Shelly.


	8. (8) A Laptop Like You (Part 2)

Alright, sorry for the delay, here's the next update.

* * *

><p><strong>Who Made Who?<strong>

**Part 1: The Death Of What Used To Be**

**Chapter 8: A Laptop Like You (Part 2)**

"_It's not your CD slot  
>Or the Unix on which you are based<br>You make my lap hot  
>Cause underneath your aluminum case there's love<br>And I forgive your strange one-button mouse  
>I forgive the way your keyboard leaves marks on your screen<br>_

_I can overlook a fault or two  
>For a laptop like you"<em>

- Jonathan Coulton

**[][][]**

Sheldon waved as he started down the steps behind his father, glancing back at the house and the also waving silhouette of Rhiannon in the light from the porch lamps. Having stayed much longer than they'd expected, the sun had set some time ago and they were now led down the stairway by the small, amber reflectors lining the path.

"Peter!" a woman's voice shouted as she climbed towards them.

"Rosanna," he said politely and embraced the woman, having to kneel slightly due to her short stature.

"How are you, my dear?"

Smiling warmly, he stood, "Fine, never better. How about you? We missed you at the wake."

Sighing sadly, she gestured to the silhouette yanking a backpack from the back of her car, "I know, we had a parent-teacher meeting that we couldn't miss."

"Still a hand full?"

Rolling her eyes she shook her head, "A truck full's more like it."

Sheldon used the darkness to sneak past his father and avoid a similar reunion.

As he neared the turnaround, the large silhouette pumped into him forcefully, nearly sending him sprawling to the ground.

"No problem," Sheldon shouted back once he regained his footing.

The figure stopped and turned back, "What'd you say?"

His eyes began to haze with the red color like before, and his voice sounded distant, "Usually, people say excuse me when they bump into someone."

"You were walking down my sidewalk, got in my way, and expect an apology?"

"I don't expect anything," he said as he resumed walking, "Not from someone like you."

The sound of a backpack preceded the quick footsteps approaching and he allowed him the first strike before he responded.

Dropping the heavy bag of gear left to him by Simon, he spun wrapped a scrawny hand around his neck.

A voice not quite his own seemed to guide him, and his body reacted as if it was an instinct of his.

"_Grab the handle, push the button."_

Sheldon obeyed, feeling the movement of his enemy's arms to counter, he listened to his guide and hooked his right leg behind Boris' and pushed, sending him toppling backward onto his backpack.

"Yeah!" Kuznetsoy's voice shouted from the doorway, "Kick him in the Kremlin!"

Sheldon looked up with his fist raised in the air and felt himself be pushed off of him.

"That's enough, Macho-Man," Rhiannon said as she looked down at the stunned form of Boris.

Starting to come around, he caught sight of Sheldon standing over him and growled as he began to climb to his feet. Rhiannon sighed and kicked him hard in the center of his chest. Emitting a guttural yelp, he fell back to his previous position.

"Doesn't feel good, does it?"

"I don't know what came over me," Sheldon mumbled.

"Relax, he's messed with you since we were kids," she said while crossing her arms, "And it's not like you started it."

The raspy intake of breath by the crumpled form of Boris shown she possessed many of her father's combat skills, being a single kick sent the air from his lungs.

"See what I mean?" Rosanna said with a sigh, "He's the same way at school."

Peter nodded, secretly feeling proud his son wasn't letting him push him around, "Except he probably doesn't have to worry about that at school."

She scoffed and shook her head, "I wish he did. Maybe it'd keep him in line."

"Should we help him?" Sheldon asked when he didn't attempt to stand again.

Shaking her head, she easily lifted the bag of gear and started toward the car, "Probably."

**[][][]**

In the middle of a heated argument, the communications monitor flashed to life, the new body of Queen Vexus glimmering in the light of the camera.

"What news do you have about the ship?"

Carmine and Tidas froze, arms still raised toward each other angrily. Carmine clears her throat, and straightens her beret as Tidas crosses his arms and looks away.

"There… was a mistake about the date the ship should have arrived."

"And?" Vexus asked impatiently.

Tidas scoffed and shook his head, making the face of the guilty commander flush with anger and embarrassment, "It was scheduled to arrive next week."

"And now there's no base for it to arrive at," Vexus said with a sigh, "Alright. Does it have it's departure coordinates?"

She nodded as the files appeared beside the communications window on the screen, "Yes, it departed Mars' artificial moon Phobos, three days ago."

"Good. Intercept and take it. There is more data I require from that ship."

The file of the ships' departure vanished and was replaced with an blurry image of a blueprint outlining the parameters and structural integrity of an android.

"They were stolen from my palace when the Ganymedian military overtook us. I order you to retrieve them."

Tidas pushed Carmine out of the way and looked over the image.

He'd seen this before. Not long ago at all, so recent that the image began to blur itself together. And at last he grinned.

"Yes, Tidas," Vexus said, her grin matching his own, "These are the blueprints to the android you'd encountered. Bring them to me, and you'll be the one to destroy her."

**[][][]**

Sheldon stood in his garage, facing the work bench with the parts and tools he had carefully set out ten minutes ago. Though he was facing the work that was yet to be done, he was no closer to starting than he was before, the only progress being the wrench in his hand.

'Have to check the PDA,' he said at last, setting the wrench aside and sliding the outdated electronic in front of him, 'Then I'll get back to work.'

Turning it over in his hands, he read the faded, military styled letters that were painted on the back.

"Komandir Simon Petrikov."

Facing the screen toward him he held the power button, genuinely surprised when the device flickered to life.

He scanned through the files, most being classified military documents for missions that occurred decades ago, but he eventually came to a file who's date confused him.

It was dated three days ago.

His finger hovered over the file, curiosity and caution fighting for control.

After the battle died down, curiosity prevailed and the file opened into a video. After a short buffering screen, the screen darkened. A second later, the face of a man appeared, the wrinkles and scars showing him to be a well earned seventy. Stepping backwards, he leaned against a cluttered desk near the back wall of what appeared to be a refined and elegant library.

The room wasn't too large, but a dozen steps or so would take you from one side to the other. Among the books on the shelves were spaces filled with pictures, snow globes, and a myriad of other nic-nacs. Behind the desk and black leather wingback rolling chair, the dull orange of the setting sun shown through the curtained window.

"Hello, Sheldon," the man said, "You probably don't remember me, but I'm Simon Petrikov, a friend of your father."

Running a hand through his white hair, he glances down at the desk, picking up a framed photograph he'd noticed. He sighed and smiled as he looked down at it. Several moments pass and he remembers what he was doing.

Sheldon lifted the photo from the bag, noticing the frame was the same from the video. The photo is of a younger Simon, his hair still black and the same blue lensed spectacles that were hanging from the current Simon's pocket rested on his face.

"Anyway," he said as he set the photo back to the desk, "There are a few things I must discuss with you."

He paused for a moment as if he struggled with how to begin.

"Well, I guess I'll start with-"

The screen darkened and a battery symbol began to flash.

"No," Sheldon shouted, scrambling through the bag to find the charger.

He carefully set the large rifle aside and dropped the boxes of ammunition behind him. Soon, the bag was empty and he was surrounded by all of Simon's equipment. Finding no charger, he sighed and began to return the items to the bag.

Shaking his head, he looked at the plug on the device and knew he didn't have any cables that would fit it.

"Guess I'll have to charge it at school," he said, remembering a similar looking cable in the tech lab.

Now with his mood drastically shifted, he glanced over the assortment of components and turned off the light hanging over the bench.

* * *

><p>Sorry this one is so short, I've had time issues, keyboard issues, and a bunch of other things getting in the way.<p>

I have twelve other stories to get caught up on, so I'm not going to promise a quicker next chapter, but it will be of a better quality than this one.

Thanks for reading.


	9. (9) A Laptop Like You (Part 3)

First off, I'll apologize for the long absence. Computer issues, health issues, and a lack of interest in writing of any kind kept me from updating. While I'm still not too excited to continue, I realize that there may be a few people waiting for updates, and a big thanks to the reviewers for reminding me of this story, so I should at least attempt to make progress.

I won't promise there will be weekly updates, but it won't be left unfinished, whether it takes a weeks or years. Also, instead of this being the last chapter in Part 1, I'll have an epilogue/trailer after this one.

* * *

><p><strong>Who Made Who?<strong>

**Part 1: Finale**

**Chapter 8: A Laptop Like You (Part 3)**

"_In a year or two__  
><em>_You will seem big and heavy and slow__  
><em>_I will carry you__  
><em>_To wherever it is laptops go to die__  
><em>_And don't think it won't be hard on me__  
><em>_How'm I ever gonna find a way to justify_

_The money I will spend on something new__  
><em>_For a laptop like you."_

- Jonathan Coulton

**[][][]**

"So, why're we waiting by Sheldon's locker?"

Glancing between the notebook and the corner of the hallway, Jenny sighed, "He lent me his Biology notes a couple days ago and I forgot to give them back."

Brad nodded, "Oh, yeah, I remember now. I think there's a test today as well."

"Excuse me," Sheldon said from behind them.

"Hey Sheldon," Brad said as he moved away from his locker.

Jenny stared back at him, the conversation she'd played over and over in her mind escaping her.

"You're kinda in the way."

Brad reached out and pulled her aside as best he could, "Sorry about that."

"No problem," he said as he began entering his combination.

"So," Brad began, doing his best to fill the silence, "Did you see that the Chimpz are gonna be playing in town next month?"

Sheldon smiled and nodded, "Yeah. Man, would it be great to get a couple tickets."

"Definitely, I hear they put on a good show. I started listening to their older stuff. I like-"

"Your notes," Jenny finally mumbled, extending the notebook.

Sheldon glanced to the side and took the book, "Thanks, thought I lost them."

"Make sure everything's there," Jenny said, adding emphasis to the ending.

Pretending to not understand what she meant, he put the book on the shelf and nodded, "I'm sure it's all there."

They stood there in silence for a moment while he finished grabbing his books. Brad cleared his throat to break the tension and looked at his watch.

"Geez, it's that late already? We'd better get ready for homeroom."

Nodding, Jenny turned to follow him, "Let me know if anything's missing."

"Sure," Sheldon said, allowing a fake nod.

Once out of sight, he flipped through the pages and found a small and neatly folded piece of paper. Quickly opening it, he found only a sentence of elegantly written words."

'Meet me at the park, 3:30.'

Crumpling the note and tossing it inside the locker, he grabbed Simon's PDA and began walking to the tech lab, hoping to find a way to sneak a charger out before class started.

**[][][]**

Peter sat behind his desk, sorting paperwork and reading his mail when a deep knock came at his door.

The hangover of yesterday in full effect, he sighed and shook his head, "Go away!"

"Me-yow," said the smiling woman as she stepped inside, "whose bed did you wake up in that makes you think you can talk to me like that?"

Embarrassment and frustration fighting for control, "My apologies, Colonel Summer."

Laughing, she shook her red hair to the side, revealing a black eye patch and scar running down the left side of her face, "Come on, Peter, I'm just teasing you."

Closing his current file, he leaned back in his chair, "So, what do you need?"

Sitting on the edge of his desk, she picked up a photograph of Peter with his wife and Sheldon before setting it face down, "How was the _Komandir's_ funeral?"

"It was alright. Kuznetsoy's taking it hard, but that's understandable."

Nodding, she looked at the ground again, "I need your help with something. Well, not _your_ help directly."

Hesitant, he leaned forward, "What is it?"

"We're having trouble with the Mechs. The scientists are idiots, and the pilots are clueless. Dr. Healy won't work on anything that he hasn't built, even though he designed the damn things, so…"

"No," he said sternly.

"Come on, Peter. He's interested in these things, he'd love it."

Shaking his head, he continued, "I'm not bringing my son onto this base again."

"It won't be like last time," she said, standing from his desk, "You can be there with him if you want. Besides, he's still B'd up, right?"

Thinking for a moment, he shook his head again, "I can't allow that."

"This is your superior talking," she said while leaning forward and caressing his chin with her right hand, "You're forgetting that you don't have a choice."

**[][][]**

'3:30,' Sheldon thought as he checked his watch, 'Oh well.'

Rolling to a stop, Peter pulled his badge from his jacket pocket and waited for the guard to approach. Slinging his rifle to his back, the guard took his badge and motioned to Sheldon.

"We need his, too."

Nodding, Peter opened the glove box and after some searching, removed a faded and tattered green colored card.

Pulling a small scanner from his pocket, the guard checked Peter's and returned it to him. Sheldon's, however, didn't read in the machine.

"How old is this card?"

Peter cleared his throat and glanced toward Sheldon, "It's eleven years old."

The guard's eyes shown his surprise, even though he tried his hardest to hide it. Looking over the card again, he handed it back.

"Ok, sir. You're cleared to enter."

Returning Sheldon's card to the glove box, he drove through the gate and headed to the storage hangar.

"Why did I have a card when I was five?"

Making up an excuse, Peter returned his badge to his pocket, "Well, the base used to allow guests and you used to come to work with me a lot. You don't remember?"

Sheldon shook his head, "No, can't remember much that far back."

"Oh, I see."

As they rounded the corner of the hangar, they saw a group of people standing around the open doors. When they stopped and stepped out of the car, the two Mechs were in view, standing just inside the hangar, out of sight of any enemy satellites that may be viewing.

"Whoa," Sheldon said, quickly glancing to make sure the PDA was plugged in before running toward the group.

"Well, I see your father is still a slow driver," Summer said with a laugh when he reached them, "How are you today?"

Noticing the snickers and angry looks of the scientists and engineers, he hid his excitement as best he could.

"I'm alright."

Nodding, she turned and led him into the hangar, "So, here are the X-A and X-B. The left one is Draknir, and the right is Darmthir."

"Dragon and Blaze," Sheldon said, catching the reference.

Summer grinned and sighed, "At least someone recognizes brilliance when they hear it."

"Alright," one of the scientists shouted, "Hasn't this gone far enough?"

Feigning confusion, Summer allowed a smile to appear, "What do you mean?"

"We built the damn thing! We know every bolt and wire on them, and you expect a kid to figure out what's wrong with it?"

"Yes, I do," she answered sternly, using her rank to make him slink back into the rest of the group, "Go ahead."

Sheldon nodded and approached Darmthir. Slowly looking over it's construction, he pointed to the left leg.

"The left pivot joint is frozen. It will give it a slight hitch while moving and has damaged the control struts, which is why its stance is shifted 0.2 degrees laterally."

Peter allowed a proud grin to creep onto his face as he stood with his arms crossed, watching his son point out fault after fault without even using the maintenance system.

Pointing out all the mechanical defects, he glanced back to Summer, "Can I turn on the computers?"

"Knock yourself out," she said with a shrug.

Climbing into the unfinished pilot cabin, he began flipping the startup switches. With a loud hum the engines started and held an unsteady idle. Despite the misfire, he increased the thrust output until the gauge shown a compression issue at mid throttle.

"Sounds like an fuel issue," he shouted, quickly shutting the engines off to prevent further damage.

As he climbed out and approached the now silent group of engineers, he motioned to Darmthir, "You used Draknir's fuel maps in Darmthir, so it's running lean. The lean fuel mixture burnt the impellor shaft and fried the ring gears. Rebuild the engine and switch the fuel maps. I'm positive it's the same problem with Draknir, which uses the lighter and less powerful engine."

Turning to the group, Summer folded her arms and spoke sternly, "Does that sound correct?"

After a brief concession of mumbling, the head engineer shrugged, "It's possible, but until we check the records and dis-assemble the prototypes, we-"

"You have to disassemble them anyway to make repairs to the parts you damaged, so follow his advice and get started. Any more problems, and I'll hire him to replace all of you."

Their pride beyond weakened, the group quickly approached the hangar and began their work, each of them avoiding eye contact.

"Thanks a lot, Sheldon. You've accomplished something that thirty so called geniuses couldn't."

"No problem," he said, his cheeks beginning to flush.

"Now," she said, turning to Peter, "I promised to help you with the budget for next year, so if you don't mind, Dr. Healy wanted to have a chat with Sheldon."

Glancing between Summer and his son he eventually conceded with a sigh.

**[][][]**

Glancing at her surroundings, Jenny sighed and read the time on her display.

"3:45," she said out loud, "Must be running late."

She paced around the bench closest to the park entrance, her mind replaying everything she would say, as well as her memory of the event. Slowly and slowly, piece by piece, the fragments of data began to combine and she remembered more every passing day.

"Hey, Jenny!"

She turned and seen Brad running through the entrance, "Oh, hey Brad. What're you doing here?"

Out of breath, he held his hand up, waiting a moment before speaking.

"This is always where you tell Sheldon to meet you."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Jen," he said, "Something happened between you two and you're trying to fix it. You're just going about it the wrong way."

"What makes you think something happened?"

Sitting on the bench, he shook his head, "He's been different since the day you two were absent. He's more… laid back, less energetic. And then there's the fight."

He shook his head and allowed a chuckle to escape, "You shoulda seen it. He was angry, determined, and even brave. Things the old Sheldon never was. So what happened?"

Jenny sighed and sat beside him, the bench giving a slight protest from her weight, "To be honest, I'm still not really sure. All I can remember is we were in space. My armor was damaged and I never would have survived re-entry. He tried to help but I pushed him away and said something. Still, I know whatever it was hurt."

The image of him floating away from the shell right before he zapped her repeated, as if it was happening again.

"I do know that even after what I said, he still risked his life to save me. And to think of how I treated him, not just then but before. That's why I asked him here, to try to make up for it."

Brad nodded and clapped his hands, "Well, you're going about it the wrong. Don't have him meet you some where no one else is, like you're embarrassed to be seen with him. This is what you do."

**[][][]**

"So when you get to agriculture, when you get to the scientific revolution and industrial revolution, you're looking at ten thousand years, four hundred years, and one hundred and fifty years," Dr. Healy said, stabbing the table with his middle and index fingers for every period of time.

Sheldon nodded, "It begins to telescope."

"Precisely!" Dr. Healy said, "When this telescoping begins to manifest, we'll begin to manifest the new evolution of humanity, the next generation."

"Now the question is, how do we achieve the next evolution?"

"It's quite simple," he said, resting his elbows on the table and running a hand through his greying hair, "The new evolution stems from information, and it stems from two types of information, Digital and Analog. Digital is artificial intelligence. The analog results from molecular biology, the cloning of the organism, and you fit the two together with neurobiology. Before, under the old evolutionary paradigm, one would die, and the other would grow and dominate, but under the new paradigm, they would exist as a mutually supportive, non-competitive grouping, independent from the external."

"You're saying that evolution becomes an individually centered process emanating from the needs and the desires of the individual, and not externally?"

Dr. Healy smiled, "You're quite astute. So, you produce a neo-human, okay, with a new individuality, and new consciousness, but that's only the beginning of the evolutionary cycle because as the next cycle proceeds, the input is now this new intelligence. As intelligence piles on intelligence, as ability piles on ability, the speed changes, until what? Until you reach a crescendo. In a way, it could be imagined as an almost instantaneous fulfillment of human, human and neo-human potential."

"But it could be something entirely different," Sheldon said, leaning in and growing more involved in his research, "It could be the amplification of the individual, the multiplication of individual existences, parallel existences, now, with the individual no longer restricted by time and space. And the manifestations of this neo-human-type evolution, manifestations could be dramatically counterintuitive."

"That's the interesting part. The old evolution is cold, it's sterile, it's efficient, and its manifestations are those of social adaptation. You're talking about parasitism, dominance, morality, war, predation. These will be subject to de-emphasis. These will be subject to de-evolution. The new evolutionary paradigm would give us the human traits of truth, of loyalty, of justice-"

He was cut off as the sound of a door opening filled the small workshop he called his office.

"Of freedom," he continued, "These would the manifestations of the new evolution. And that is what we would hope to see from this. That's what we hope to achieve."

"I trust you can understand his ideas?" Summer said as she walked in with Peter, "No matter how many times he explains it, it always goes over my head."

"Yeah, yeah," Dr. Healy said, patting Sheldon on the shoulder, "A real bright one he is."

"It's definitely a world changing idea, if u can fulfill it," Sheldon said, rising from his chair as Dr. Healy did.

"Another day, another augmented clone," he said with a laugh, rotating his right shoulder, resulting in a loud pop.

"Anyway," he said, motioning to the door, "I believe that's all we have time for today."

Glancing at his watch, Peter nodded, "Yeah, it's about time we head home."

Sheldon turned to say good bye to Dr. Healy, but was met with a hand motion to be quiet.

Hearing their voices begin to fade down the hallway, he led Sheldon to the door.

"I knew Simon, he was a good man," he began quietly, glancing through the door way.

Thrusting a small notebook into Sheldon's hand, he continued, "He was also a wise man. Sometimes you should follow the advice of those who you remember the least."

Dr. Healy's previous look of joy and compassion was gone, a nervous and worried expression filling its place.

Knowing enough to not say anything, he only nodded as he slid the notebook into his back pocket.

"I hope fate brings us together again soon, but until then, be careful and always watch your back."

**[][][]**

"Come on!" XJ-10's voice whined from the laptop resting on the bench nearby, "Get started already!"

A game of pong was playing on the screen, both paddles moving furiously back and forth.

"You don't know how boring it is to be an A.I. with no access to the internet!"

"Yeah, yeah," Sheldon said as he moved aside the parts covering his workspace, "Gotta check something real quick."

Powering up the pda, he selected the video he had started before.

"Well, I guess I'll start with something you may know already," Simon said, the video continuing from where it left off.

After another moment of silence, Simon sighed and continued, "The world is not as black and white as it may seem. I'm sure you know by now, the line between good and evil is not always so easy to see, and in fact, there is no good or evil. What is good to the terrorist, is evil to his enemies. The truth is, mankind exists on a level of duality and are controlled by impulse."

Looking up to face the camera, he continued "You will soon find yourself at an impasse. You will need to make a choice, and that choice will affect the course of your life from there on."

Turning slightly, he lifted an image from the desk, a blue and white blueprint of the XJ-10 BlackBird project.

"I know about the android."

Sheldon's jaw dropped as the game of pong ceased on the laptop, the loss of the pinging paddles leaving a dreadful silence hanging in the air of the garage.

Turning it around to look at it, Simon chuckled, "Quite a piece of machinery, but its creation is a cataclysm in the making. You may save thousands of people, but a great many people will suffer and perish from it. This is the choice I was speaking of."

Returning the image to a folder, he crossed his arms, "You do not owe anything to this world. You will receive no peace from your actions. This is important in your head only, not your heart. I have done the necessary arrangements the best I can, the rest is up to you. Destroy this abomination; wipe its existence from the face of the earth."

Giving a nod to the person behind the camera, he smiles as the video is cut.

'File end,' flashed on the screen as the PDA returned to the file browser.

Hands shaking, he set the PDA aside, and stared down at the collection of tools and robotic parts scattered across his work bench.

"So," the voice from the laptop said, "That was something."

Hands still shaking, Sheldon reached over and closed the lid of the laptop.

**[][][]**

Sheldon trudged through the darkness, the only light coming from the small screen of his digital watch.

12:44 A.M.

It took longer than he'd thought, but he was glad it was over with.

Adjusting the bin of parts he carried on his shoulder, he wiped his forehead with his left hand, the weight of the laptop feeling heavier than it had previously.

"_Think about what you're doing,"_ XJ-10's voice reverberated inside his head.

"I've decided," he said out loud, knowing he would receive no answer, the laptop's inhabitant long gone.

Standing at the edge of the landfill, he looked into the dark abyss below, knowing the forty foot deep chasm would be filled in just a few days' time.

Dropping the bin of parts to the ground, he swung the laptop into both of his hands, taking a moment to caress the stainless steel shell. Suddenly, he snaps the lid upward and rips it from the base, sending it sailing into the darkness, the faint thud reaching him only a moment later.

Holding the base in front of him, he watches as the first drops of a soon to strike thunderstorm began to fall. Tearing the keyboard away, it met a similar fate to the screen. Pausing only a moment, the remaining parts followed.

Hefting the bin of parts, he swung backwards and let go, clinging a moment longer to allow the pieces to spill out along the fall.

The rain began to fall, crashes of thunder echoing among the ringing sound of the parts landing below.

The sound of footsteps behind him were nearly unheard.

"We should go," the voice said, causing him to turn back.

Standing just a distance away was a girl nearly his height, a black jacket zipped up over a white dress shirt and black skirt. As the raindrops landed on her skin, flashes of electricity sparked back and forth as the hologram began to short out, allowing the white and black shell beneath to become visible.

He nodded and turned back to the darkness, allowing only a sigh to escape before he left.

XJ-10 opens her mouth to say something, but Sheldon doesn't he look toward her as he passes.

Looking down for only a moment, she turns and follows after.

* * *

><p>Alright, there's the end of chapter 9. I know its been a long time in the making, and im not promising an immediate come back, but it'll get continued eventually.<p>

After this chapter I will upload an epilogue/trailer, then there will be a short intermission story to introduce other characters.

Thanks for reading and waiting patiently. I do appreciate all the readers.


	10. Part 1: Epilogue

Here is the short epilogue. The lyrics being over lapped are of my own creation, and in no way an infringement of any real works. They will be in italics.

* * *

><p><strong>Who Made Who?<strong>

**Part 1: Epilogue**

**[][][]**

"Oh, I have a great many things planned for you," the voice said from the darkness.

Sheldon's head darted around, the single light over him blocking out everything lying beyond it's outskirts.

Futiley, he tugged at his restraints, panic causing him to thrash about until his breathing became heavy.

"Let me out!" he screamed, his voice thunderous in the confined room.

A low chuckle echoed back amid the sound of footsteps, "We're not finished yet."

Attempting to reach for his watch, he found it missing, his left wrist covered with thick cable instead.

"Your robits will not be coming," the voice replied, "They are scheduled for extinction in the hour."

More footsteps and the sound of something being turned.

"I believe we should get better acquainted, you and i."

The sound ceased and in it's place came the scratching of a record needle.

A slow, somber beat from a big band orchestra began to fill the room.

A figure appeared on the edge of the light, it's face hidden behind a plague doctor's mask. Sheldon could feel the grin on his face as he rattled the chain in his thick rubber gloved hands.

"My name Dr. Matthew Trager. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sheldon."

A woman's voice sadly sang an opening to the song.

"_Ohh, how far have I fallen?"_

**[][][]**

In a bright, snowy landscape, a figure trudges forward, pulling a small supply sled behind it.

"_It's hard to believe I'm here."_

Stopping on a hilltop overlooking a small village below, the figure pulls down the hood of their thick jacket and shows a sleek metallic head with a small engraving that read XJ-10 at the base of their neck.

_"I must be going, but I haven't a clue to where."_

People in the village watched for a moment, then upon seeing here, began waving ecstatically as children began rushing toward her. She looked back for a moment, taking one last look at the barren field she'd just crossed, having found no trace of her lost memory.

_"I wish I could stay, but this emptiness is killing me."_

Forcing a bright smile, she adjusted the straps of the sled and began walking toward the village.

_"I guess I should be glad, though I find the will to smile flees."_

Amid a crowded city in an outlying planetary bazaar, Jenny walked, street after street, pausing only to adjust the device she held in her hands.

_"Some say I flew too high, the sun burning away the part of me they knew."_

Stopping to show a photograph of Sheldon to a shopkeeper, Jenny glanced at the device which showed a steadily flashing blip on the screen. Looking at the picture in it's own tentacle hand, the creature shook his head and handed it back.

_"Forgive me if I sound so foolish. I have no idea what to do."_

Under a dark and gloomy sky, a battered, bleeding, and exhausted Sheldon crawls along a thick sheet of snow.

_"Through all of my troubles, I have been guided, by the light you shown my way."_

The broken exoskeleton he is wearing begins to beep, causing him to rollover and look at the small screen attached to his right hand's servo.

'Trace of machinery pollution and electromagnetic waves below the surface.'

_"If this is the end, my friend,"_

Hearing the faint hum of machinery, Sheldon took a long and raspy breath before touching the screen. Rapid beeping began playing as the screen flashed, 'Black Rain incoming on your location.'

Leaning his head up as much as he can, he sees the missiles from the Silver Shell blast through the roof of the detainment building he had escaped, realizing only then the great distance he crossed to reach where he was now.

Allowing his head to drop, he stared up into the sky and stretched his arms out, watching as the missiles slowly began to enter the sky above him.

Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and waits, knowing he's done everything he could.

"_Come and dance with me on the moon."_

* * *

><p>Just a short epiloguetrailer to show what's in store. Thanks for reading.


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